Romance and Rivalries
by The Warped Hatter
Summary: To love is simple. It's being with the one you love that's the hard part. Abuse, Anal, AU/AR, Bi, F/F, Language, M/M, Oral, Rom, Yaoi - Various pairings - read and adore Odd chapters by Robin - Even chapters by Ryoko New chapter every week
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Right. That was it, Renji had finally decided: life wasn't fair.

He wasn't going to lie, it wasn't like he'd ever _enjoyed_ school, but then again who did? It wasn't as though he'd ever met a kid who went 'please mommy, please let me go to lessons!' and as far he knew he never would, of course there was always the one or two who aced everything and anything, but even they didn't _want _to go to school, they just did. It was a forced institution, something you had to do, kind of like a rite of passage, a part of growing up . . . but as far as Renji was concerned circumcision, homework and driving exams were all rites of passages too, didn't mean he wanted to subject himself to any of them.

So when he complained, whined, moaned all he got was the usual 'kids today' or 'grow up', and usual a double dose of chores to do along with his schoolwork, but truthfully to Renji it felt a lot more serious than anyone ever gave him credit for.

The first day of school he'd been so eager and excited, he'd been put into one of the top classes and had found out Rukia – an old childhood friend – was attending the same school too, he'd been so hyped up he can remember the way his heart pounded even now. He was just so excited! Then he went and ruined it all by making a fool of himself, he'd ask too many questions or say too many 'stupid' things, and each time he put his hand up or shouted out he'd hear all the students laughing at him, so it had gotten to the point where he didn't bother to say anything at all. After a term or so he found himself being humiliated in all sorts of subjects; he'd expected Ichigo to be better at P.E, Ishida to be better at maths . . . but for Chad to be better at singing or Orihime to beat him at cooking? It just didn't seem to matter what he did he was constantly being laughed at! It wasn't exactly better outside of school either, not when Ichigo was constantly belittling him and calling him a 'hippy' every minute of the day for what he wore. God, and people wondered why he rebelled!

Truth of the matter was he hadn't been at school much recently. He'd skip every other lesson, take days off whenever he felt like, and even missed parents day to get a few more tattoos added to his back. He wouldn't have even have bothered to have showed up today but the new headmaster was a legendary tight-ass, he'd even gone so far as to instigate a new rule: 'more than three tardy marks in a month and its remedial classes for the month after'.

So what could Renji do? He wasn't like Ikkaku who could skip out when he wanted, he didn't have the kind of parents or sensei who would allow that, and he wasn't as cute as Rukia, who could probably talk her way out of a murder sentence before the blood had time to dry on her hands. If he wanted to avoid remedial classes and notes sent home then he'd simply have to turn up at school. The last time he'd been stuck with remedial classes his foster parents had made him do chores for a whole week after, and God only knew how much of a pain Urahara's chores were.

He reached his classroom with a sigh and stood for a moment outside.

He'd made it to class before Sensei, so that was something at least, but he still had to go in and face the entire class. Last time he'd showed up at school Ichigo had accused him of stealing something, after a fight they'd ended up outside where Ichigo demanded he 'take it off!' – apparently referring to the sweatshirt he borrowed – but with the whole class thinking them now in some sort of sexual, gay-love affair he _really _didn't want to show his face again! Still, it was a choice between humiliation and being tardy and getting punished . . . humiliation or punishment, humiliation or punishment . . . Ugh, he'd settle for humiliation.

Taking in a deep breath he pulled open the door and stepped inside. The moment his feet even touched the classroom floor a somewhat terrifying sight accosted him at once: "Renji!"

He screamed somewhat as a large, pink, bunny-shaped, papery mess thrust itself into his vision, and from it came a somewhat feminine voice. It was completely disconcerting and alarming, to be face-to-face with some eerie shaped thing, but when he pulled back it kind of made more sense, although not much.

It seemed that Rukia was standing in front of him holding out a large card. Her face was bright and cheerful, grinning ear to ear with her usual pretty grin, and her eyes were large and sparkly with that manic look she tended to have when she was proud of something. He didn't need to guess she was the designer of the card, the way she seemed so excited gave that away instantly, but when he looked at the damned thing he felt less ashamed at the scream he'd gave earlier. The damned thing was terrifying! If he didn't know any better he'd have sworn her drawings got worse and worse. This time she'd drawn a florescent pink 'Chappy the Rabbit' onto a giant A3 sized card, and sprinkled glitter all over. It reminded him of a cross between 'Harvey' and 'Donnie Darko', but not as endearing . . .

"You have to sign it, Renji!" She said almost leaping up as she spoke.

From a corner came Keigo's voice laughing almost manically, "Don't worry Renji, when Ichigo here saw it he screamed even louder than you did!"

Renji didn't even need to look when he heard Keigo yelling in pain to know that Ichigo was probably kicking the crap out of him, and apparently it had never even occurred to Rukia her bad drawings were the reason everyone kept screaming when confronted with them. She looked so proud though, bless her, he didn't have the heart to tell her the truth, so instead he gave a nervous smile and blushed a little and took the card out of her hands as she stood grinning wildly.

"Err, who am I signing it for?" He asked.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you!" She said clapping her hands together, "Kyoraku-Sensei's partner isn't feeling too well again, he's back out of hospital but he's completely bedridden for the moment. So I've made him a get-well-soon card! His two nurses said it might cheer him up, and big brother and I are going to see him after school! Go on, Renji, you have to sign it!"

"Sure thing, Rukia. Your artwork's really . . . _improved _by the way."

"Thanks, Renji!"

He wandered quickly over to his desk with the card still in hand and threw his rucksack on the floor, before he even had a chance to turn around Rukia was there right behind him with pen in hand. She was holding it up to him with the same big, sparkling eyes and he knew he couldn't deny her, even if he could be that heartless the first thing she'd do would be to fake a few tears and the class would turn on him in a heartbeat. She was probably the most manipulative person he'd ever met, but he still loved her, deep down within she had a heart of gold and was loyal until the very end to those she loved. He felt lucky to have her as a friend.

He quickly signed the card with 'get well soon, Abarai' and handed it back to Rukia who quickly thanked him and ran away to collect more signatures, he smiled as he watched her go and then turned around to find Ichigo. There was no point in finding Kira, the guy was such a stickler for being on time that he wouldn't show until literally thirty seconds before bell, and as for Ikkaku he was probably skipping class altogether. It didn't matter though, Ichigo was as fun as anyone to torture and annoy, and in fact he was probably an easier target than Kira!

Smiling he turned around and strolled over to Ichigo's desk. The guy looked pretty hot today, but then again he always looked kind of hot, not in a sexy Yumichika way but he had his own kind of thing going on, too bad he was taken by that stupid blue-haired punk. It would have been nice to be able to rebound onto Ichigo, or maybe just have a one-night-stand, but the orange-haired youth wasn't that kind of guy, it was a shame but Renji didn't mind, and he certainly wasn't going to make their friendship weird by suggesting anything. So instead he took it as a sign he wasn't ready for a new relationship just yet, maybe he still needed time to get over Yumichika? After all he'd thought what they had was pretty good, until Ikkaku came along . . .

Clearing his head of his thoughts he leant on Ichigo's desk and leant into the redhead.

At first Ichigo tried to ignore him. He wasn't really used to people invading his space like how Renji always did. His mother had died when he was pretty young, and his dad's idea of 'bonding' was to beat the crap out him all in the name of 'training' and 'getting stronger', and he had to admit to being somewhat of a loner too . . .

Ichigo hated to admit it but to him people being in his space, touching him and fussing over him made him feel awkward, it was like he was so used to getting beaten up at school for his hair colour, or annoyed by his goat-faced dad, he'd forgotten what affection was. It kind of felt like he deserved to get hurt and deserved to get punished. He still blamed himself for his mother's death, and the hassle he got from other kids was unreal, and he was always blowing up over the smallest things and getting into arguments with Ishida and Rukia. Hell, he'd nearly made Hanataro cry once. He felt maybe as if he was a bad person, and the only person who'd ever made him feel different was Grimmjow.

Maybe it was stupid but he really liked the guy. Sure he was brutal, annoying, abusive, abrasive and oddly enough so much like Ichigo that he could have sworn they were separated at birth or something, but he was the only person to make Ichigo confront his inner self, that inner hollow being. The first time they met they'd been in a huge fight, in fact Ichigo had left a large scar on Grimmjow's chest, so suffice to say he hadn't even for a minute thought they'd end up as a couple, all he'd felt at the time was infinite adrenaline and a kick out of fighting an equal. It wasn't until later when Grimm had made him confront his past, made him realise he wasn't responsible for his mother's death or even for most of the crap that happened to him, that he saw Grimmjow in a new light.

Maybe it was because of that he never objected to Grimmjow in his personal space. It'd taken a good year even then to be able to bring himself to lie in his blue-haired lover's arms, or to allow a touch on the shoulder in greeting or a hug in parting, but when he finally felt those small concessions of affection he couldn't get enough. He still blushed now and they hadn't even – well – done _that _yet, but to have Renji all up in his space not only felt weird and annoying, it felt like he was betraying the guy he loved and respected.

He carried on finishing his history report in silence, his pen scratching at the paper despite how Renji was coming ever closer and closer, and even though his friend's shadow was hiding his own writing he still ignored him. It wasn't until he could feel that warm, clammy breath on his face though that he at once panicked and felt sick – it was the same kind of feeling he had around Matsumoto or Yoruichi-san, only without that kind of excitement that went with it.

Enough was enough.

Slamming his hand down hard on his desk he turned around and thrust his head right against Renji's, his golden eyes aglow with annoyance and rage, and his hands all but crushing his history essay as he screamed loudly at his redheaded companion.

"What the hell's your problem, Renji? If I've told you before that I don't want your frog breath in my face, then what the hell makes you think I'd want it there now!"

"How mature, Ichigo! Here I am, just standing here all quietly, and you go and act all psychotic on me! I was just trying to be friendly!"

"Yeah? Well go be friendly somewhere else, you red pineapple!"

"Oh? Well what are you going to do if I don't, carrot top?"

"God damn it, just get lost!"

At this Ichigo pushed hard against Renji's chest and knocked the other man slightly off balance. Renji stumbled backwards as bumped harmlessly into Ishida behind him, it seemed the little bookworm had wandered in late for some reason and was just about to take his seat, and thanks to having someone stumbling into him everything he carried ended up spilling all over onto the floor. Luckily he wasn't carrying much: just a bento box, a sewing kit and some magazines. It seemed like he'd left his backpack here earlier, so he'd probably just gone off to the Crafts Club to pick up some things he'd forgotten.

Feeling kind of guilty Renji helped pick up some of the crap his fellow classmate had brought along, but when he lifted up one of the magazines he got the shock of his life. There, in one of the fashion segments, was the face of his ex-lover staring up at him: Yumichika Asagawa.

Usually Renji would have teased Ishida for carrying around a fashion magazine, whether it was for Crafts Club or not, but right then he couldn't help but stare as that beautiful body sported the most up-to-date fashion, with purple locks flowing down to his chin elegantly. His whole face was aglow, and his lips were slightly pouted, and at once Renji felt his lower half stirring to life as he remembered the arousal he used to feel around his lover. The very thought that this man – forever immortalised on paper – would now be screwing around with his best friend pissed him off, in fact it more than pissed him off, it made him livid! He forgave Ikkaku of course, but he couldn't quite forgive Yumichika. Yumi was only a year or so his sempai, studying photography at university with a modelling job on the side, and Renji had been so happy with him it was unreal, and now -? Now Yumichika was with someone else. It was a hard pill to swallow.

At the second the classroom door chose to open. Ishida grabbed his magazine and took his seat, and most of the other students followed suit as well, through the door came Kira with their Ichimaru-Sensei.

Renji rolled his eyes. It was painfully obvious his friend had a crush on his teacher, in fact he'd stay long after class getting advice on essays and exams, and each dinnertime and break he'd be forever running errands and chores for Ichimaru-Sensei, not to mention it was one of the few classes Kira managed to ace and that was only to make sure he impressed his teacher. He wasn't sure if Sensei knew how his student felt, or even if he returned the feelings, but what he did know was that – out of the whole school – Gin Ichimaru was the only person to ever call Kira by his first name: Izuru. He knew they weren't dating because Kira would have told him so, but the way things were going it made him worry, after all if Sensei found out Kira's feelings who knew what would happen? Teacher/Student relationships were strictly prohibited and besides that, what if they did get together, what then?

When he realised everyone had taken his or her seats he sighed and slipped into his chair at his desk. The old fox-face was already looking at him and it made him nervous, how the hell could Kira be attracted to that?

The guy was a lot like Momo's kid cousin, born with white hair that was as silver as his name itself, and rumour had it he had some really unnatural eye colour like red because he was incessantly squinting. Apart from one or two pupils the class was all Japanese, and so Renji was used to the racist jokes he sometimes heard, but when Ichimaru walked around with his eyes practically closed he was tempted to make the same jokes himself. He wasn't a bad looking man, and his clothes were pretty cool, all white according to the teacher's uniform but form fitting around his body and long on the sleeves, but he was creepy. No buts about it, he was creepy.

Gin stood before the teacher's desk at the front and retrieved his pointer from a drawer, at once he smacked the thing in his hands and gave that same, permanent smile that on anyone else would have been reassuring, but on Gin looked rather sinister and machiavellian. The guy was a notorious liar, and the fact he could lie with a smile meant anyone who didn't know him would almost always believe him, and he was also rumoured to be a bit of a prankster. On one parents-day all signs and maps seemed to have been suspiciously tampered with, and oddly it meant that Gin Ichimaru's classroom was the only one that couldn't be found or accessed, and yet of course Gin had no idea how it could have happened. The guy couldn't be trusted.

"Ah, Abarai-san!" Gin said in his sweet, singsong voice with its slight Osaka accent. He tilted his head to the side slightly, "Its so good of ya to be finally seated in my classroom. I hope ya stick around this time."

"Err, yeah, of course Ichimaru-sensei."

"Ah, I am pleased!" He said with a beaming smile and a slight quirk of excitement, "In which case you won't mind handing in your history essay."

"History essay?"

"Yes."

Renji looked around the room nervously. It seemed that most pupils already had their papers on their desks and almost all of their eyes were on him, it was nerve-racking as he'd had no idea an essay was due in, and when he'd asked Ikkaku the guy had just shrugged and said he hadn't heard of -. Damn it! No wonder, Ikkaku was never in lessons to know of any homework! Oh, he knew he should have came in earlier and copied from Ichigo, or he could have even copied from Orihime, it didn't matter who, but to come into class after all this time and not have his homework done . . . he had to think and fast!

"Oh, err," He looked up at his sensei and frowned deeply.

Gin's smile faltered into a rather worried expression, "Is something wrong, Abarai-kun?"

"Oh, yeah, I – I feel really sick, sir. Can I head to see the school nurse?"

"Why of course, I wouldn't expect you to stick like glue to your work when you feel so obviously ill," His voice trailed slightly at the last word, but then he perked up and his body gave an obvious little jump as he smiled brightly. "Right! If you think you have to leave I won't stop ya. Bye, bye, Abarai-kun!"

Renji gave a relieved sigh and began to pack up his belongings.

The front door opened again and stole his attention for a second. There at the entrance with his head cast down low, hand holding his hat as his long coat nearly fell off his shoulders, was Shunsui Kyoraku. The guy was one of the best teachers at Karakura High, and he was one of the best precisely because he was a total lazy bum who didn't care if you slept through his classes, and if you were a hot girl then you didn't have to worry about your grades, you somehow always seemed to get an A one way or another.

Recently his partner had taken a turn for the worse, and so worry constantly shone in his dark eyes, but despite those obvious shadows he'd somehow always still shine brightly whenever a pretty face passed him by. He was an obvious womaniser, but Renji wasn't going to complain, and why should he? It wasn't his problem after all. All he was doing was innocently packing his belongings and getting ready to leave to see the nurse, the way he thought of things was that if it didn't concern him then it didn't matter, not at all.

"Ah, Gin," Shunsui beamed with a bright but sleepy smile. He tilted his hat and nodded a brief sign of acknowledgement, "Can I ask you to take over my classes this afternoon? You are free, aren't you? It's just Jushiro has a doctor's appointment and I completely forgot . . . you know how it is."

Renji tried to ignore the lazy bantering of Shunsui and Gin. He knew they wouldn't be long and it would be best to leave whilst Gin was distracted, that way he wouldn't ask for the essay on the way out. It was strange as Gin usually _hated _when people disrupted his classes, but today he seemed somewhat calm and almost satisfied, like he was privy to some deep dark secret no one else was. No wonder the guy was so creepy, only Sensei could wear an expression completely unsuited to the situation, after all shouldn't he be worried for his colleague's partner, not smiling that really creepy smile it seemed impossible for him to ditch?

Slowly he made to get up out of his seat but found himself at once pulled back down. He rolled his eyes, expecting Ichigo or Ishida to be the ones pulling him back, maybe trying to get him to stay rather than ditching classes, so he swatted his arm behind him but hit only air. Then with a sigh tried to stand again, only to find himself pulled back down again. Okay, this was getting weird. He was getting annoyed now, this was ridiculous, whichever one of the guys was pulling this prank on him he'd soccer punch them unconscious. He tried to turn around but found himself unable to. He tried to stand up and then fell back down. It wasn't hard to realise that he was someone had super-glued the seat of his chair, and by God he was going to kill whoever had done it!

He tried a few more times, but each time he moved the chair came with him! In the end he found himself up and down in a way he _really _didn't like, in fact it looked like he was riding some sort of invisible guy, and the looks he was getting . . . he didn't think his face could get anymore red!

"Ah, Gin, it seems your student is having some problems." Shunsui murmured with a smile, leaning against the doorframe, "Is he going to be okay?"

"Of course, Kyoraku-sensei. It just seems like somebody played a prank on him. I have no idea who would dare to glue Abarai-kun to his chair, but I'll be to sure to punish them when I find out."

Gin gave Renji a smile and the very sight of it made him wince and shiver.

Shunsui gave an all-knowing smile and got prepared to leave, "Well, thanks for taking over my classes for me. I'll be on my way now."

"Ah, give my sympathy to Ukitake-san."

Renji watched as Shunsui left and closed the door tightly closed behind him, it seemed that his only chance of escaping Gin's classroom had just left in a lazy stride, not that he stood much chance at getting sympathy from that loser of a teacher anyways, but still . . . He looked up at Gin who was writing in large, elegant writing on the blackboard and drawing occasional maps. When the teacher turned his eyes seemed to burn into Renji and his smirk seemed somewhat darker than usual . . .

"Well, if ya not going anywhere, Renji-kun," Gin said in a friendly enough tone, "How about that essay?"

All at once Renji found he had a sneaky suspicion just who had glued his seat. . .


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This story will update weekly. Even numbered chapters by Ray.

Chapter Two

Skipping class sounded bad when if you said it like that, but in all honesty Ikkaku didn't see anything wrong with what he was doing. He was on the list with all the usual suspects of truanting, but if you looked into the matter, the others would be off at home, hung-over, getting more money to become hung-over, or worse. Ikkaku was doing something much more important than class.

He'd like to say he spent his mornings in bed with a very beautiful man, and to some degrees he did… Well, up to the point Yumichika kicked him out because he had somewhere to be.

No, he was off preparing for his future. In his finest opinion the work he did while the others all slaved away at school was much more valuable to him. Ikkaku Madarame spent most of his hours training away. If Kenpachi wasn't around, then it was just a matter of going to see Iba, and if he was really desperate there was nothing wrong with going down the wrong neighbourhood and hassling some local thugs.

He was always desperate for a good fight.

Today he awoke at roughly half-eleven, he could tell from the alarm clock perched on the wooden dressing table beside him. Ikkaku groaned in his semi-awake state… he was too late to go to school anyway… He'd promised to hang around with Iba as it was… Oh well.

The bald man rolled onto his back, his arms settled behind his head, eyes half open… it was unusual for Yumichika to keep him around this late in the morning. It was normally about seven or eight o'clock that the beautiful male turned him out of bed and sent him out onto the street with a bagel for breakfast.

Glancing to his side he could see Yumichika was still fast asleep. Today must be his day off or something because he never overslept. Ikkaku smiled gently to himself as he stared at the man beside him. It had been hard enough for Ikkaku to believe whom he was flirting with even before the guy went and got a modelling contract…

Even without the camera or his hair and face preened to the highest degree, Yumichika Ayasegawa was a stunning creature. Right now his hair was wavy and sticking up in some places, curled up in the bed sheets, his forehead a little wrinkled as he slept… he always looked like he was concentrating while he was asleep. The beautiful man would complain to hell and back about his appearance while sleeping, but he was still completely gorgeous… Ikkaku sighed, what on earth did Yumichika see in him?

He bent his head and kissed the other on the cheek. "Yumi… wake up," he whispered, nuzzling down into the bed to wrap an arm around his waist, "Yumi, it's time to get up."

Azure eyes opened and he let out a little groan, moving into the warm firm body pressing against him. "The time?" he mumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"It's about half-eleven, honey," Ikkaku grunted, about to protest about Yumichika sliding up and away from him. "Oh come on, you have the day off today, right?"

"That doesn't mean I'm spending the whole morning in bed," he slipped out of the covers, hunting around the room for something to wear. He favoured a silken black dressing gown hanging over a wooden chair by his desk.

Ikkaku blushed as he watched his lover's body moving around the room, letting out a little sigh as the robe covered the soft white skin. "Come back to bed, Yumichika."

Clearly he was in no mood because he sat with his back to him before the large round mirror on his dressing table, beginning to comb his short, dark bob, glancing at Ikkaku's reflection, "Don't you have school?"

"I'm already late," he shrugged. "There's no point in going now… I might go and piss off Iba at his place."

Yumichika laughed, turning to face him, "Just don't go and die on me, you idiot, and don't wake him before twelve; he'd rip you to pieces."

"Like I'd die," Ikkaku puffed out his chest, rolling his eyes. "Have some faith in me for once!"

The bald man climbed out of bed, fishing around for last night's clothes… he'd turned up yesterday because of kendo practice. It had been kind of exciting to get picked up afterwards by Yumi in the modelling company's car. His lover had learnt to drive in the last year and used every possibility imaginable to show that off.

"You aren't even going to shower?" he wrinkled his nose as he saw Ikkaku pick up his bag, his shirt half-done up and doing up the belt to hold up his baggy black pants.

Ikkaku grinned at him wolfishly, his smirk stretched form ear to ear: "I thought you weren't in the mood this morning."

"I never said I'd be showering with you," he cut in, "I was going to buy a new camera today and I'd rather get to the shop before it's filled with the elderly," Yumichika flashed him a cocky smile, before turning around to get off his chair.

He began to walk towards the other, and Ikkaku wrapped his arms around his slender waist.

"If you're going now," Yumichika sighed, "at least be polite enough to give me a goodbye kiss, Ikkaku."

Ikkaku laughed, leaning his head down a little, taking Yumi's chin in his hand, he pressed his lips softly to his. He could feel long and beautiful fingers clasping onto his shirt, his cheeks flushed slightly as Yumichika deepened the kiss, flicking his tongue across Ikkaku's bottom lip.

The bald man broke the kiss, a teasing smirk on his lips, his hand had fallen from his chin to rest upon the slender man's shoulder, "Now, now, you have to buy yourself that new camera, right?"

His eyes narrowed and he raised both hands and pushed the other back a little towards the door, "Of course, and you have to go and bother Iba. Off on your merry way," he said sarcastically, leaning against the wall.

It was moments like this which suggested Ikkaku was possibly the luckiest teenager he knew… Contemplating that, he chuckled to himself, swinging his bag over his shoulder, he turned the key and opened the door, as he was about to leave he looked back and grinned, "I…" he lost his nerve a little and quickly stammered in, "… I'll… see you, erm… later, Yumichika."

Closing the door quickly behind him, Ikkaku hastily walked off towards the elevator… It had been happening a lot lately, that damn Yumichika would get him squished into a corner and he'd find himself wanting to say 'I love you'…

It was definitely moments like this that he wished Yumichika had never once been Renji's boyfriend… Renji was the guy he could talk about anything with, the embarrassing stuff, the damn right stupid stuff… These days he couldn't ask him anything like that. After all, there was no nice way of saying, 'Hey, Renji, I think I'm in love with your ex, you know, the one that broke your heart… yeah I think I'm love with him.'

It probably looked really bad to everyone else… and a cliché… the boyfriend running off with the best friend. Renji had told him time after time that he'd forgiven him. But Renji was a good guy, he was honourable, and until six months ago Ikkaku had thought he was honourable too…

Picking up his phone Ikkaku glanced at the screen, he'd missed three calls from Kenpachi… that meant either something had come up or Yachiru had gotten a hold of the phone. No matter how much respect he had for the man he idolized, Ikkaku still found it hilarious he didn't really understand how to operate a phone. Still, everyone had his or her ups and downs…

Ikkaku cast a final glance up at Yumichika's apartment building before letting out a deep sigh and turning down the street. Iba's place was just down the road from here; an apartment on the fourth floor of the club the older man was a bouncer at.

Now was time for a fight!

* * Scene change * *

"The flowers are lovely, Byakuya," Jushiro Ukitake glanced up at the younger man who was stood with his back to him facing the window. "It was nice of you to drop by here yourself."

The ebony haired male turned back to him, "It was no trouble at all. I hear you had a hospital appointment this morning so I thought I'd come by to check on you."

He smiled happily at him, "I do appreciate your visits, it must be a little dull for a young man like yourself to keep popping by on an old geezer like me," he laughed at he spoke.

The white-haired man gasped a little as he began to cough; Jushiro hated showing his sickness in front of Byakuya. He winced as he stopped coughing, his ribs aching, his shoulders hunched, Jushiro hated the sight of blood on the hand he had clamped over his mouth. Looking up, Byakuya had rushed to his side, looking concerned. Quickly he wiped his hands on the baggy black shirt he had on, "I'm fine, look at you, worrying."

"Are you sure? I could go and get you a glass of water if you wish?"

"I'm perfectly alright," he shook his head, resting a hand upon his arm. "Please sit down, just a little cough, I assure you."

The younger man didn't look convinced. He frowned and nodded his head; "Very well," Byakuya took a seat on the chair beside the sofa.

His dark eyes surveying the older man before him; Jushiro Ukitake was dying, he went out of his way to hide it, but the closer you were to him, the more obvious it was. The bags under his eyes, his pale skin, his slim and withering form… it was such a sad sight. He looked like a shadow of the man he had been. And yet, despite it all, he was still smiling, he appreciated everything and everyone he saw…

On his last years, Jushiro Ukitake's personality hadn't changed. His spirits were high; he seemed so alive in contrast to Byakuya, young, healthy and completely dead inside.

"So, what have you been up too lately, Byakuya?" Jushiro asked. "I hear from Rukia every now and then. She's looking so happy these days."

"Yes…" he took a little pause before nodding his head, "Her school work is at a very high standard and she is often with her friends. As for myself, well, I've been very involved in my work."

Jushiro nodded his head, "Shunsui has been telling me about your success. You have a talent for business, your grandfather always said you would…" he looked back at the flowers, "Byakuya, you have a sensible head on your shoulders, but I think you've forgotten a little…"

He tilted his head to the side, "Forgotten?"

"When was the last time you… laughed?" The white haired man looked up at him, "I hoped… that one day I'd see you as carefree as you once were."

Byakuya stood up a little, turning back towards the window, his cold eyes gazing at the beautiful garden. Since Jushiro couldn't work any more, he'd thrown all of his efforts into the garden… he could see exotic flowers, beauty of all different colours. A series of sakura trees with gentle pink flowers dancing in the breeze.

The younger man held a hand to his forehead a little, his eyes suddenly soft and sad, "It's harder to be carefree now I'm no longer a child, Ukitake."

He laughed, sitting back and coughing slightly, before straightening up, "I still laugh, don't I?"

Byakuya looked back at him with a small smile, "You certainly do." He trailed off, forgetting what he was going to say as he heard a key turn in the front door… Kyoraku must be home.

"Jushiro," called a voice from the front door, "I'm home!"

Instantly Jushiro's eyes brightened and shakily he stood up from the sofa, almost stumbling causing Byakuya to rush to his side and bring him back to balance.

"Thank you, Byakuya," he smiled at him, before turning to face the dark haired man who entered the living room. "Had a good time, Shunsui?"

The other man beamed at him affectionately, wrapping his arms around his lover and drawing him close, "It was fun, I haven't seen Lisa-chan in a while," he stroked Jushiro's long white hair, "So naturally I'm black and blue under my shirt," he pouted.

He laughed and kissed his cheek before drawing away, "Byakuya-kun paid me a visit while you were away," he gestured to the young man who nodded to them politely.

"Ah, Byakuya, it's been a while," he offered him a hand, "I have to ask Rukia-chan for any information about you."

Byakuya folded his jacket over his arm, "Yes, I'm afraid I've been rather caught up in my work, Shunsui-san."

"I dare say you'll be coming to Yoruichi-san's annual party though?" he said a little hopefully. "Jushiro and I are attending. There's a rumour that Kisuke-san is making an appearance as well. I'm sure she's invited you?"

He let out a little… negotiating inside sort of noise… edging slightly from foot to foot, it was a habit he only had when he was avoiding something. "She has… invited me. Although I'm not sure I can lose a night's work–"

"Nonsense," Shunsui laughed out loud, "It's been too long, and nobody sees you anymore, Byakuya-kun. Not to mention the lovely ladies attending," he went to nudge him playfully.

Byakuya shuddered to himself. Yoruichi was considered by most men to be an object of utmost beauty and charm. This was of course the complete and utter opposite of Byakuya Kuchiki's personal opinion; Yoruichi, as the older girl who teased him when he was little, had always been the embodiment of the utmost irritation and annoyance.

He had heard men in secret talking about their desires for Soi Fon, Yoruichi's slender Chinese bodyguard, however, the fact that this sort of talk remained secret was vital if they wanted to live.

Whereas Yoruichi was friendly and approachable, Soi Fon was scary and cold. It was rumoured that she made men cry accidentally four times everyday, and on purpose seven times per day. But of course Byakuya did not really care for such nonsense.

"I will try and change my plans," he spoke up after a moments pause.

"I hope you do," Shunsui said confidently, an arm around his lover's waist, "In fact I was about to ask if you wanted to join us for lunch? I'm planning on taking Jushiro here to that new place just down the road… if he doesn't mind you joining us?"

Jushiro shook his head, "It'd be wonderful for you to join us, Byakuya."

"I'm sorry I'm afraid I have a deadline coming up," he admitted, brushing his hair out of his face, "I'm sure the two of you will have a wonderful time without me. I should be leaving now actually," he began to slip on his jacket, cringing internally as he saw a sad little pout on Jushiro's face.

"Oh, well, another time then," Shunsui nodded his head, kissing the side of his partner's head; "I'll let you out of the front, Byakuya. And I do hope to see you at Yoruichi-san's. I'll buy you a drink."

"The drinks are free," Jushiro cut in, laughing and taking a step towards Byakuya. He grinned at him. "Thank you for visiting and the flowers really are beautiful."

"Any time," he offered him a hand, which the sickly man shook firmly. "I'll see you soon, Ukitake."

As he headed out of the door, Byakuya took one last glance at the couple before he headed down the lawn and towards the black Mercedes-Benz he had waiting for him. A lot of people said bad things about Shunsui, and he wouldn't lie to himself, Byakuya had been one of them. However no matter what people said, they couldn't deny that he was good for Jushiro.

It was so much easier to be happy when you're with someone you love… Byakuya took a deep breath and raised his car-keys out of the pocket of his expensive tailored jacket…

'I suppose', he thought to himself, 'I'll have to try hard if I intend to laugh again'.

* * Scene Change * *

Lunchtime should have been the best part of Renji's morning… He wasn't going to lie; he had it pretty good when it came to lunch.

Tessai was an amazing chef, and although he had recently been making Renji make his own lunch, he was a lot more likely to pity the redhead's drowning in homework and chores, and make lunch for him.

He had to admit, there was nothing better than a bento box made by his loving adoptive father. He had a real knack for getting it just right… but today, Urahara had given him money to buy something, which had been so rare and surprising, the red-head was sure it was either a trick or blackmail.

Still, he had money for food!

The only problem was the only place he could think to go was McDonalds…

It really showed how little they all had money to eat out. The group of them had stood awkwardly around the playground, unsure of what to do with themselves. It was usually only Rukia who had money for lunch, which she spent of juice at the canteen and a burger…

Ishida and Orihime (although hers never looked quite as they should), always had bento boxes too, and Ichigo varied from where he stayed at night.

Everyone must have been a little envious of the beautifully wrapped, and sometimes even shaped like animals, dinners that his little sister Yuzu prepared. It was how every man imagined married life.

"So, McDonalds is it?" Renji asked Rukia as the two of them stood in line together inside the bustling building. You could really tell it was lunch time here… there were old people who, like Renji, could think of nowhere else to eat out; young mothers with screaming toddlers silenced only by the toys in a Happy Meal; a few students suffering from a severe lack of funds… and of course, there were the hopelessly fat people who were probably addicted to this damn place!

"I don't remember the last time I came in here," Rukia admitted, "not since we were kids, Renji."

"I doubt Byakuya brings you here," he joked, elbowing her playfully in the side. She laughed and nudged him back, blinking when she saw a girl in the next queue holding a fashion magazine.

"Holy Hell," Rukia bent her head a little to get a closer look without physically jumping on the girl just to see, "isn't that Yumichika?"

Renji winced, he had been hoping to go without this for a few days before he got used to the idea of his ex being sprawled out on front-covers… Brushing his hair out of his face, he managed to give her a stiff nod.

"Yeah, that's him," he grumbled, "I guess his modelling is going well."

Renji glanced back at the magazine cover and felt himself shuddering inside as he saw Yumichika lying flat on his back on a bed, modelling a pair of tight jeans and slim fitting designer shirt. He was wearing dark colours and was a stunning contrast to the white silk of the bed. His lips drawn into a glossy smirk, leaning back against the pillows so carelessly… The redhead had to curse himself… why was his sexuality awakened by such an unforgettable form?

Rukia rolled her eyes, "I still think you let Ikkaku off too easily. It's not like Yumichika tied him down and forced him to date him, you know," she folded her arms and looked up at him, a concerned look on her face.

"Oh come off it, Rukia. Ikkaku is my best male friend," he fiddled with a button on his school shirt, "and a guy like Yumichika can easily make someone stray past boundaries…"

"I'm just worried about you," she said awkwardly, "Come on, Renji, we've always looked out for each other, haven't we? I'm just worried that they're taking advantage… you're a nice guy."

Renji laughed a little, wrapping an arm around her skinny shoulders, "Ah, Rukia, trust me, I'm not that nice," he blinked and went red as he noticed it was his turn to go and order up. "Shit," he grunted to himself as he headed swiftly towards the counter. One of the things he absolutely despised about himself was that he could be so awkward; nowhere near on a Kira scale, but whenever he caught himself doing the wrong thing, he'd get into a fluster. Like now for instance, he thought the girl behind the till was looking at him funny, and he said he wanted a Happy Meal because it was the first thing that came to his mind.

She chuckled as she prepared it for him, and Renji rubbed his forehead miserably… he didn't want a Happy Meal… why had he asked for such a stupid thing? Aw damn Yumichika… this was his fault somehow.

"Here you go, sir," the girl said, trying not to snigger at him, as he went red, reaching out and taking it, muttering a quiet thank-you. Clutching his Happy Meal in one hand and feeling like a first-degree moron, Renji Abarai turned back to Rukia and went completely pale as he came face to face with his ex-lover.

"Y-Yumichika?"

Was there a worse time to run into the guy who broke your heart? Holding an embarrassing kids' meal from a cheapo place like McDonalds; red in the face, the girl behind the counter laughing at him behind his back, and looking far from attractive and worthy of being missed as he'd imagined he would be in all of the times he'd imagined this meeting…

Well, it could be worse… he supposed he could be naked or something…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three  
By Rob

Rukia checked her watch for the third time in ten five minutes.

She couldn't help but feel sorry for Renji since he'd humiliated himself in front of Yumichika, in fact just being there by his side made her feel awkward, and when he then utterly embarrassed himself she was actually feeling embarrassed too on his behalf. She'd tried to be a good friend and spare not only Renji, but Yumichika too, and hastily dragged him outside for a quick getaway, and that should have been the end of matter, but no, not for Renji . . . It seemed he wasn't exactly good at coping with things concerning his ex, and so – for the past five minutes – he'd banged his head continuously on the brick wall outside the restaurant.

She'd always said the guy was thickheaded and now she had proof. Most people would have been severely concussed by now but Renji was still at it, banging away like he'd not a brain to worry about, and maybe he didn't. He was always getting into fights, showing off, loud mouthing and he was so much like Ikkaku and the guys she had to seriously wonder about his grades. Then again he was wearing his bandanna, so there shouldn't be too much damage to his skin.

The only problem right then was that classes were soon to start and they couldn't afford to miss them, or at least Rukia couldn't, if her grades dropped even slightly then it'd be back to private tutoring and cram school, but she couldn't leave Renji alone to wallow in misery either, it just wasn't fair or right. She could only hope one afternoon of lessons wouldn't make a difference, after all she was a straight-A student, but with Ichimaru-sensei taking over the afternoon's lessons he'd be sure to tell onii-sama, the two were rather close friends after all. Then again if they left now they'd still be able to make it on time, but with Renji the way he was . . .

"How could I have been so stupid?" Renji snapped loudly.

He continued banging his head harshly on the brick wall. If he was expecting sympathy then he was looking in the wrong place, all Rukia could do was roll her eyes and wonder why Renji even cared what some narcissistic, two-timer would think of him. If it was Rukia then she would have just punched Yumichika in the stomach before pouring her milkshake on his head, but Renji never was a smart one . . .

"Of all the things I could have said to him," Renji groaned, "and I had to come out with 'do you want some fries with that?' He probably thought I was completely off my head! Not to mention the hand-me-down trousers I've got to wear. Stupid Ichimaru and his stupid pranks, those were my best pair of jeans too and now they're ruined!"

"Yeah, I feel for you," Rukia mumbled.

She pulled out her phone as Renji continued to smash his head literally against a brick wall, there weren't many messages but there was one from Hanataro saying how great medical school was and one from Orihime, warning her to get back in time for bell. She'd been hoping for something a little more interesting she could reply to, something to take her mind away from Mr. Cry-Baby there, but unfortunately there was nothing.

The problem with Renji was – as much as she loved him – he was completely self-absorbed, short-sighted and completely immature, for example she'd been in love with him for her whole life, and the moment she left for brother Byakuya's house all he could say was 'good luck'. They'd been nine at the time and neither one of them had even thought for a minute they'd be adopted at such a late age, but it turned out that Byakuya was her brother by blood who had left guardianship of her to their sister, but when their sister had died he wanted to take full custody himself. Whilst meanwhile Urahara and Tessai wanted to adopt and start a family, figuring an older child would be easier to handle for first-time parents than a younger one.

Damn him, Renji hadn't known at the time they'd meet again, he thought that they'd be apart forever, and yet he just sent her on her way without even so much as a decent goodbye. Jackass. He hadn't changed much even now . . . He still pined away for his ex, not realising he didn't stand a chance, and what was the point in explaining things to him, he'd never understand.

"Stupid," Renji snapped, again banging his head.

"Oh, cut it out! It's not like it's the end of the world."

"What do you know? You've never been in love with someone and not been able to have them. Why was I so stupid?" – bang – "Stupid." – bang – "Stupid!"

Beside them someone cleared their throat nosily.

Rukia and Renji both jumped at the noise and turned around quickly, only to see of course Yumichika standing bashfully at the restaurant door with a nervous grin expression. It was obvious he'd seen the whole show Renji had just put on. If Renji had thought his day couldn't have gotten any worse then it seemed he'd been very much mistaken . . . His face was by now completely red and inside he felt a heavy weight sink in his stomach, the feelings of complete mortification taking over as he felt physically sick. If the ground could have swallowed him up, then and there, he'd have gladly given in and fallen to his doom.

"You forgot your toy, Renji-kun," Yumichika said with his usual, blissful grin. "It's one of those pink ponies so I'm not sure what you'd want with it, but maybe Ururu would want it? Well! I must be going! I have a photography class in fifteen minutes, but it was nice seeing you! You too, Rukia-chan!" He handed the toy over quickly and Renji groaned loudly, "Goodbye for now!"

Rukia wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry when she saw Yumichika leaving with an obvious bounce in his steps, but no matter how much she loved Renji she couldn't help but see the funny side, and she knew that given enough time he'd get over it and see the humour too. The poor guy was standing there humiliated with a pink pony toy and despite how cruel it seemed she couldn't help but laugh! Even when her redheaded friend groaned even louder she couldn't help it! She loved him, she really did, but it was just too funny for words!

When Renji finally came to his senses he sighed and flipped himself around, leaning back on the wall and glared menacingly at Rukia who just laughed some more, although granted she did latch onto his arm after and give him a friendly hug. It still wasn't quite reassuring but it did make him feel better to know that she was so close and by his side, he wasn't sure why but she always had this kindly presence about her that made him feel calm, happy, and he really appreciated her ability to make him smile without even trying.

It was then he saw Ichigo walking along the road past where they stood. He was walking at a pretty regular pace eating an onigiri as he went, kind of trapped in his own little world as the wind blew at this hair and made the lapels of his jacket flap. His face seemed pretty serene too, and Renji noted it was one of the rare times that he saw his friend without a scowl on his face or a frown on his brow, in fact he seemed quite happy and if Renji didn't know any better he would have sworn he'd seen a spring in Ichigo's step.

He gave a weak wave as Ichigo spotted them and wandered casually over, whilst Rukia made a huge fuss and spent a few minutes catching up with their friend, asking him all sorts of questions that Renji just knew if he'd asked he would have got punched for. Damn hypocritical Kurosaki . . .

"You guys are aware school starts in five minutes, right?" Ichigo eventually said to him, swallowing his last bite of rice. "Why are you lurking around here for?"

"Why are you so late getting back?" Renji snapped.

"What business is it to you? If you must know I spent last night on Grimmjow's couch, and the bastard wouldn't give me any money for lunch." Ichigo shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets, "I stopped by the firm and made him treat me to lunch at the cafeteria, threatened to go up to Aizen-sama and cry if he didn't, tell him his employee was sexually harassing a teenage boy, it soon made him pay up. He's not all bad though . . . his co-worker is meeting a client not far from here, Ulquiorra, you know? The one Orihime is friends with? Grimmjow arranged for him to pick me up and drop me back off at school, and Grimmjow's picking me up personally after to take me out to dinner. So I'm going to be on time, unlike you losers."

He yelled out when Rukia soccer punched him to the back of his head, and ignored her yells of protests about being called a 'loser', instead he looked closely at Renji who looked in more of a pissed off mood than usual. The poor guy's face had fallen so low that he looked like he was fighting back tears, if Renji was even capable of crying, and his eyes were kind of cast down at the ground. It was a sad sight to see and it made Ichigo rather worried, it wasn't often he ever saw Renji down in the dumps, and he never had any idea how to help the guy either. Usually it was Rukia who fixed things.

"What's up with him?" He asked.

"Yumichika-san."

Nothing else needed to be said . . .

Renji frowned and tried to figure out just what he was feeling at that moment. Sure there was the feeling of frustration, powerlessness, humiliation but there was also a feeling of resentment too and anger. He felt angry that his friends all had someone and he seemed to be so alone, angry that the only guy he'd liked could betray him so badly, and angry that no matter what he did he only seemed to make things worse. It felt like the whole world was laughing at him, and no doubt Yumichika and Rukia already were, and to then have Ichigo know his business just felt . . . well . . . too much to handle.

Did the world and its sister need to know what he did, how foolish he'd been? No, and yet he couldn't think of one person who wasn't in on the details of his life, and he couldn't think of anything to fix things either. He needed someone to talk to but Ikkaku was kind of the cause of his problems, so what could he say to him? 'Hey, you know you betrayed my trust and shacked up with my boyfriend, well now I'm feeling really depressed, hurt and down-in-the-dumps, can you help me out?' It'd be lower than low, it'd be pitiable and pathetic, and Renji was above needing anyone's pity. He couldn't go to his parents either, Urahara would probably just laugh at him with Yoruichi, Tessai would embarrass him with tales of his youth, and Jinta and Ururu would no doubt overhear and tease him mercilessly to death too.

He knew what he needed: his old friends.

He needed Momo, Hisagi-sempai, Kira and a visit to Matsumoto's Bar, and most of all he needed a strong drink. He knew Kira would probably be out skipping class about now, which was a shock seeing as the guy was so in love with Gin that you would have expected him to be in his every lesson, but he knew Kira was as hopelessly in love with Gin as he was for Yumichika, so it was likely he'd be out drinking at the bar about now. Ikkaku would be done training for the day and looking for a real fight, so if he was lucky he could catch him there too. Just a bunch of friends off from school, sitting around with a drink or two, or three, or five . . . it sounded perfect.

"Yo," He waved Ichigo away dismissively and began to walk further into town towards Matsumoto's place, he knew he was being rude but God how he needed a drink, "I'm heading out for some sake and whatnot at Rangiku-san's, tell Ichimaru I'm out getting wasted, and make sure you drop the honorific too – it'll piss him off all the more."

"What? Hey! Renji, you can't just skip class like that – hey!"

Ichigo knew his shouting was pretty much pointless so he growled loudly and screamed 'damn him' to the wind, before saying a quick goodbye to Rukia and heading off to catch his ride. If Renji wanted to be an ass-wipe then let him, but he was going to get a decent education so he could take over his father's clinic, even if that meant listening to Urahara, his dad and Ishida's dad talking every five minutes about crack-brained medical ideas and inventions. He was onboard for some of their talk, like cures for cancer, but when it got into the realm of male pregnancy he found them officially insane. Still, he needed an education. He was out of there and heading to school.

Rukia could do nothing but a double take as Renji went in one direction and Ichigo in another. She felt torn into two different directions, one being with her friend to school to fulfil her families expectations, and the other following her other friend to a bar, trying to cheer him up as was her moral duty. Great, now what should she do? Head back to school with Ichigo in a company car, or follow Renji and try and drag him out of the bar before he got too drunk to head back to school? Well, she had to follow Renji, didn't she? She hadn't much of a choice, the idiot would probably get himself killed without her there to stop him, and it's not like onii-sama would find out, right? With most of the class skipping out on lessons surely Ichimaru-sensei would have better things to do then tattle-tell on her?

"Damn it. This is why I hate redheads," she grumbled, before chasing after Renji . . .

* * * Scene Change * * *

Matsumoto's Bar was indeed a rather odd establishment, and far beneath the bars and restaurants to which Byakuya usually frequented.

There were no candlelit areas, no Maître ds, no need for reservations and no dress code for entry. What made the whole scenario worse for Byakuya was that he wasn't entirely certain what kind of establishment this was meant to actually be. It wasn't family run in the style of traditional Greek taverns, it wasn't cheap enough to be classed as a Japanese izakaya and the décor was too . . . cheerful to be modelled on an English bar. He was almost certain that this was not at all a place in which his younger sister would ever visit, despite being raised in a common environment she still had her standards, and he would not believe that this place could possibly hold her person for any length of time. He had checked the paper with the address five times now, and yet the address was accurate, this was the indeed the place where Miss Rukia Kuchiki was hiding.

Byakuya made sure to keep his head high as he looked across the street to the bar; he refused to show any weakness for fear that in this type of neighbourhood he may be prone to attack, after all he could not guarantee the lower-classes would show him the appropriate respect he deserved. He slipped on a pair of gloves unlike his usual sleeveless ones, making sure his entire hand was covered so that no germs could touch him, and nodded to his driver to wait in the car as he walked across the street in a calm, poised manner.

The moment he reached the large, wooden door he nearly bumped into an older man, one also much larger and taller than him. He was at first frightened as they both stood directly before the door, one unable to move unless the other did so first, and yet both were equally unable to give way for the other. If he were to give way for this gentleman than he was to acknowledge the other as his superior, and quite frankly that was not the case, and if he were to expect this man to open the door for him then he would be sadly disappointed. He refused to back down and he refused to show fear, but deep within him he felt a sense of dread knowing this man was possibly his equal in strength, if not then more powerful.

The man was perhaps ten or so years older than Byakuya, looking to be around thirty-eight, his hair was long and black, slightly straggly and not at all well kept. It seemed to have some remnants of gel in it, so perhaps it was fair to say it was usually spiked?

His eyes were deeply fascinating however; a brilliant shade of brown that seemed almost fiery red in the light, reflecting such depths of emotions that Byakuya couldn't quite comprehend them. They completely enthralled him, along with that almost insane but powerful grin, and the facial scars that seemed almost enchanting, speaking of stories and histories long since past, marking him as a unique and serious man. His body was muscular, the type that made you think instinctively of chiselled arms wrapped around you on cold nights, keeping you safe against harm. He was wearing nothing but tight jeans that shaped his large thighs heavenly, and an open jacket so that his chest was on show. The very sight had a slight blush reaching Byakuya's cheeks, and then of course that turned into a hardened scowl . . .

Damn it. This man was clearly beneath him, someone who relied on brawn and not brains, someone who worked manually for their money and had no claim to status. What reason did he have to talk to someone like this? There was of course a certain charm to him that unfortunately made a shiver of arousal course through Byakuya, making his mouth water and member ache, but one could not control physical reactions to certain stimulus. This person was beneath him. He could not bring himself to desecrate his wife's memory, and he could not bring himself to even think of another being sexually or romantically lest it be a betrayal to their love. So to even demean himself by thinking such thoughts of a man like this -? He knew he should be ashamed of himself.

"Step aside," He said calmly, refusing to make eye contact with this creature.

"Oh? I guess money really doesn't buy manners, does it? Want to tell me why I should give way to the likes of you, pretty boy?"

"I will not ask you again," said Byakuya calmly. "Step aside."

"Or else what?" The man sneered, literally spitting at the floor beside Byakuya's feet, more than a little pissed when the other man showed no signs of being intimidated, "you know who you're talking to? I'm Zaraki Kenpachi. A master of all martial arts and owner of the best Kendo Club in all of Japan, including the boarding house which houses students of which the likes you've never seen. If I were you I'd step aside now, unless you want that pretty, little hair of yours to get all messed up."

"I am a Kuchiki," Byakuya said coldly, noticing the flicker of interest that suddenly sparked in the older male. "One wrong move and I will file a lawsuit faster than you can take another breath. You do not intimidate me. Step aside."

Zaraki laughed loudly.

Byakuya found the sound of such laughter both amusing and infuriating. There was a part of him intrigued by the harsh, gravel like quality of the laugh, one that exuded masculinity and power in a blend of arousing sound, but another part of him that was deeply angered by the contempt and scorn this man showed. Not once in his life had anyone dishonoured or disrespected his family, and for this man to now do so was a grave insult, but likewise something that intrigued him and made him wish to get to get better acquainted with this man.

Eventually Zaraki stepped out of his way and allowed him to pass, he had took only a small step forward when he felt Zaraki crudely step behind him, a little too close as his personal space was invaded. The older man rolled his hips slightly forward so that Byakuya was made aware of the other's arousal, and again he was both disgusted and intrigued, but this time the insult outweighed his interest. When Kenpachi spoke his voice was low and it was impossible to tell if his words were a threat or childish teasing . . .

"I'd be careful in there if I were you, Kuchiki," he whispered. "Children who antagonise adults always get hurt. I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to someone as sweet as you."

"I would advise you not to threaten me again."

Byakuya held his head high with that final comment and ignored Zaraki's laughter; instead he opened the door slowly and carefully and strode into Matsumoto's Bar, where he immediately caught sight of the person he was after.

The dining area of the establishment was completely empty save for a small, bottle-blonde boy with a frown on his face that sat with a multitude of textbooks all around him on a large table. A slightly older girl sat beside him, looking to be his private tutor, but by the look on her face, and judging by the tones of their conversation, the boy seemed to know more than she did and was intent on insulting her. Byakuya then noticed that the books were far too advanced for the child and wondered if – like Gin – the boy was a savant.

The bar itself ran the length of the room and contained a strange assortment of drinks, in all possible forms, varying from obvious spirits to even fruit smoothies and milkshakes, but despite the strangeness of the establishment it seemed to be prospering nicely. Matsumoto Rangiku herself, owner and barmaid of Matsumoto's Bar, was currently polishing glasses at the far end whilst begging, what was perhaps her little brother, to take his studies more seriously, only to get yelled at that he needed more difficult textbooks.

Along the bar itself sat Renji with several empty sake cups and beer mugs beside him, followed by a strange bald-headed boy showing off with a kendo stick and a few vodka shots, and finally a blonde-haired youth nursing a glass of sake with a crestfallen face. He couldn't see Rukia anywhere, and for that he had to admire her hiding skills, but unfortunately for her the tall glass of lemonade with two slices of lemon, one slice of lime and three ice cubes was enough to give her away. His first thought was that perhaps he had been spoiling her if – even in a base place like this – she could still be so picky with her diet.

He began to walk the length of the bar to where Renji sat, knowing that on the other side – where no customers should be allowed – Rukia would be hiding, but with each step he took it seemed that odd Zaraki fellow followed him. The very idea made him nervous and so he had to reassure himself that his driver and bodyguard were waiting for him in the car, no harm could seriously befall him . . .

"Are you following me, Zaraki-san?"

"Only dogs like you find the need to follow, Kuchiki."

Byakuya refused to make eye contact and continued until he stood behind Renji, "You speak as if you know me, it amuses me a man like you can even pretend to understand the workings of the upper class. You stand beside me even now, why?"

Zaraki looked down at Ikkaku, his favourite but albeit most troublesome student. The bald-headed youth was replacing his kendo stick into the belt-loop on his trousers, and politely pushing away the vodka shots as he tried to make himself look as small as possible. Zaraki knew how much the boy idolised and respected him, but he also knew it was pointless trying to discipline him too much as with his nature it only caused him to rebel further, and besides that Zaraki hated setting boundaries. If the fact Ikkaku skived off school pissed him off then he'd merely tell Yumichika, after all nothing could be scarier to a teenage boy than their angry boyfriend threatening to cut off sex for a week.

"Actually, Kuchiki," Zaraki said with a fearsome smile, "I'm here for my student. My students' come from all over the globe and they need a place to stay, I give them boarding but in return I act as their guardian. Their parents would be pretty pissed after all if I let them skip school, do drugs, or the usual hoodlum stuff. Hell, I'm that good at what I do some parents even send delinquent kids to me to straighten out. This is one of those kids -," He said glaring at Ikkaku, "- so when his teachers calls me to say he's dodging lessons, I'm the one who's got to come get him."

"I see."

"So the question is, why are you standing there? The redhead yours?"

"Most certainly not," Byakuya said sharply. "My younger sister is hiding behind the bar, and I am here to collect her also. I am also surprised anyone with an ounce of intelligence would let a man like you raise their children for them." He drew in a deep breath and nodded to the bar, "Rise, Rukia. We are leaving."

Rukia bashfully stood up and climbed over the bar, leaving Renji mumbling drunkenly how he could see up her skirt whilst Ikkaku sniggered loudly, causing him to get hit hard on the head by Zaraki's own wooden sword.

Byakuya turned to leave when he caught sight of the bar door opening. A gust of cool, fresh air blasted inside gently blowing upon his black locks, and then closed with a soft click to reveal an old friend, Ichimaru Gin.

The young teacher seemed to be in a rather happy mood, but as Kuchiki knew it was impossible to ever tell Gin's mood as much as it was hard for people to tell his own, for as Byakuya always kept a straight face, Gin always kept a smile. His red eyes could barely be seen from how narrow his eyes were, but yet it seemed so natural that he was always deemed a natural beauty despite his unique look, and his body was lithe and feminine and hair silver from birth. He was a complete anomaly and yet one that could not fault, for not one thing was wrong with his appearance. It was true he was what people called 'creepy', but that was for how he acted and spoke, not for his looks.

Gin issued forth a brilliant, warm smile and pulled loose his white overcoat, taking in the sights of the room with an eerie expression that made Rukia shudder. He seemed to be enjoying this moment a little too much and there seemed to a coldness about him that made her wince. She always hated this man. Even now his very gaze seemed to penetrate her very being and hold her in a vice-like grip, and his influence on others was too surreal to be fully understood.

"My, my, Byakuya-san, leaving already?"

"I am sorry, Gin. I am unable to stay and talk with you, my sister has missed her day's worth of schooling and so for that I am required to discipline her. We have an appointment with Ukitake-san, after that my younger sister will painstakingly revise and study all the work she has missed." He nodded an apology to his friend and quickly checked his Rolex for the time, "It seems that the school day has ended an hour ago. I invite you to take tea with me tonight, Gin, I shall expect you at seven o'clock."

"Ya know I wouldn't miss it for the world, Byakuya-san. I hope Ukitake-san is okay, Kyoraku-san and Tousen-san tell me he's not doing too well, has he tried honey and lemon hot drinks to soothe his throat?"

"I believe he has, but I thank you for your concern. Have you yet tried those persimmons that I had sent to you for your birthday? I understand that your home-grown ones have a much nicer taste so I hope you did not find the gesture insulting."

"Nah, not at all, I rather enjoyed them actually. I shared some with Aizen-sama over tea, he greatly enjoyed 'em, told me to tell ya that you got good taste too."

Rukia shivered again.

She had the distinct feeling that the only reason Gin loved their small talk so much was to unnerve Rukia, after all each time she was in his presence she always felt both a mixture of fear and dread.

She forced herself to endure it though, after all most of onii-sama's friends were such serious people or people with concerns of their own, it was nice for her brother to have someone whom was a bright and cheerful disposition, and someone with no worries too. It was like the inane chatter could make him forget the troubles of his life, make him pretend for a short while that there was nothing to worry about except honey-and-lemon or whether his gifts of persimmons were offensive or not. She would never take that away from him even if she could, but the thought of spending one more minute in the man's presence was more than she could endure. If she spent one moment longer here she knew she'd be overcome with fear.

With a soft touch she reached out for her brother's arm and gave a gently nod, a simple gesture to remind him of the time and the appointments that they must attend. Luckily Byakuya understood the gesture at once and nodded back, before turning to Gin and giving a nod of acknowledgment as they both walked gracefully towards the door to leave. He paused only slightly by Gin's side to say a quick but sincere goodbye. When the two siblings left it was like they were never there to begin with, as if they were but ghosts floating into the lives of the bar's patrons, and leaving just as soon with an ethereal quality . . .

Gin gave a slight look of disappointment and then gave a bright smile, heading quickly towards his friend Zaraki, slightly embarrassed and guilty that he could just ignore the other man the way he had. Truthfully he hadn't intended to be rude, after all Zaraki and Gin got on so well and shared a similar past, but Byakuya was the sort of person who demanded your full attention, and even when you didn't mean to your eyes and words were somehow always drawn to him, as if he were a magnet for people's affections. He also knew the humiliation Byakuya must have been feeling to have to collect his sister in such a place, it seemed a little too cruel to just ignore him or not make polite conversation, because then it was like drawing attention to the situation at hand. Still, Zaraki wasn't one to hold a grudge; no doubt he'd be fine with the matter.

"Sorry about that, Kenpachi-san," Gin said with a slight stagger to his voice, "I didn't mean to ignore ya, not like that. Just Kuchiki-sama is an old friend, it felt wrong not to say hello to him when I could."

"Forget it. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Ah, well Kurosaki-kun told me that Abarai-kun and Izuru would be here too, so I rang up their guardians and they asked me if I wouldn't mind picking them up once school was over. I wasn't sure they'd still be here, but I guess they are." He said with a beaming, bright smile, "How's ya daughter, Yachiru, doing? She as bright and hyperactive as the last time I saw her?"

"She's fine."

Zaraki's tone was suddenly quite harsh. It was a shock to Gin, he was on very good terms with Zaraki after all and it wasn't unusual for him to ask about his small daughter, so to receive such an abrupt reply was a complete surprise for him. He was silent for a moment, waiting for Zaraki to make the next move and say something, when the older man was in a rough mood he learnt it unwise to antagonise him, usually when he had something to say he'd come right out and say it on his own. That didn't mean it wasn't fun to wind him up and play with him, but there was a time and a place for all things, and now wasn't the time to play.

"You know that guy, Gin?"

"Yeah. He's Byakuya Kuchiki," he replied sweetly. "His sister is my student, but before that we met at a café in the Okinawa Prefecture some years ago. I was taking tea with Aizen-sama and Tousen at the time, Byakuya cared for neither of them when we met, but for some reason we hit it off and been speaking ever since. I try to take tea with him weekly to stay in touch."

"So you got his phone number then?" Zaraki asked, not all too subtly.

Gin sighed.

His usual friends were so predictable, easy-going and traditional, but Zaraki had to be the odd one out and fight all the rules and do his own thing. It didn't matter to him the difference in status that he held with Byakuya, it didn't matter that Byakuya was still grieving the loss of his wife and refused to date, and it didn't matter that Gin would be betraying his friend's trust by handing out his number – no, to Zaraki all that mattered was the heat of the moment and the thrill of the chase. He wanted Byakuya and nothing would stop him, in fact he'd use every trick in the book to get the ebony-haired man, and for that Gin was wary about giving him any information. In fact he was just grateful that Zaraki Kenpachi had never taken a romantic shining to him, the very thought made him shudder.

He gave the matter a quick thought and then reached across to the bar for a placemat, then turned it over onto it's plainer side and took a pen from his pocket, quickly scribbling down some details that were public – meaning Byakuya couldn't fault him for – and then handed them over to Zaraki with a very severe look. His smirk was still there but his eyes told a whole new story, one that said 'mess with my friend and you mess with me'.

"That's the address to his office, you'll have to get past security and his secretary to get to him, ya know? However the phone numbers below are for his secretary and the other's to Urahara Shop."

"How the hell is this going to do me any good?"

"Well," Gin said, perking up considerably, "a friend of a friend told me that Shihoin Yoruichi is throwing a party tomorrow night -" Meaning of course Aizen had bitched about the fact that Urahara and Shinji were invited, but not him, "- so if you ring Urahara and get an invite or con the secretary for details, you can crash the party and meet him tomorrow. I shan't be there myself, thinking of doing some private tutoring for the Kira family . . . so if you misbehave -" His smile died at this and he opened his eyes wide, "- then I'll kill ya."

Zaraki held back a shiver and tried to pretend like the threat didn't scare him, but truthfully it did. Gin could sometimes best him in sparring contests but they'd never seriously fought one another, and he doubted they ever would, but that didn't mean he wanted to risk getting in the man's bad books, especially when he had no clue what the man was capable of.

"Heh," he said dismissively. "Thanks Gin, I owe you."

With that Gin watched him as he wandered out of the bar with his fist holding tight to Ikkaku's shirt, practically dragging the younger man out of there as he begged his sensei for forgiveness. It was a complete waste of breath but it didn't stop Gin from smiling as he saw them head out of the door; after all it meant he was alone with his most favourite of people.

He sat down in-between Renji and Kira, taking up Ikkaku's seat and finding it still warm. He could see Matsumoto giving him funny looks from down the bar but ignored them, he'd not seen her for a while so she was pissed that he'd been ignoring her, but she also knew he had quite the crush on Izuru and so she was purposely standing back to give him some space. It was most frustrating for him because he knew that Rangiku was very good friends with Kira, the two often drinking together and talking all night long, and yet she wouldn't tell him a thing about Kira or how he felt! He hated not knowing and he kind of resented Rangiku for it, but of course she found it ever so amusing and it wasn't as though he didn't have secrets of his own, so he ignored it and put up with it, deciding to take his own course of action instead.

To his left Renji groaned loudly, the poor kid really did look like he was caught between a rock and a hard place, his ponytail kind of loose and his eyes heavy with alcohol. He seemed to be hanging his head too, it was like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and – if he wasn't such a troublesome student – Gin would have probably felt sorry for him. He was however much more interested with the one on his right . . .

Izuru was such a great kid. So mature for his age, respectable and respected, kind-hearted and loyal to a fault, he was smart too but not cocky about it, and so easily embarrassed it was totally adorable. Gin was constantly teasing him, giving him extra work, making him guess a lot of things between them, but overall he only teased Izuru because his reactions were always so adorable, his blush was almost addictive and his nervous stutter was like a drug. He was a couple years over the national age of consent, but Gin still knew he'd get into a hell of a lot of trouble for dating a student, so he tried to hold back how much he loved Izuru. He wasn't sure he could hold out for long, especially not when he'd convinced Izuru's adoptive parents to let him private tutor their charge . . . maybe that wasn't such a smart move after all.

"Ichimaru-sensei?" Izuru asked, a red blush staining his cheeks, and his hands playing with an empty cup in front of him. "Can I ask you something?"

Gin smiled and reached his hand out to Izuru, gently pushing his fingers against a stray blonde lock. The hair was silky smooth, the opposite to his own straw-like hair, and it felt like satin on his fingers, and as his fingertips brushed the soft skin of Izuru's forehead he relished in how silky it was, how unblemished and pure. He could feel sort of a hot, heated energy from Kira and he smiled when Izuru tilted his head slightly, almost leaning into the touch and desperate to relieve himself of its heat all at once. The blush on his cheeks heightened and Gin could feel his mouth water at the sight.

"Please, Izuru-kun, call me Gin. We're not in school no more, are we?"

"G – Gin . . ."

He felt kind of tingly hearing that name on his favourite student's lips, hearing the way it was said in such a breathless whisper, and it made him smile so warmly that his eyes lost their harshness and became soft and reflective. He could feel his eyes opening somewhat as a rare moment of sincerity came across him, enlightening him as to what was so damn special about this amazing man . . .

It was then he heard the rough voice of Renji beside him. He tensed at the sound and resented – almost hated – this student for ruining the moment, simply by being there and interrupting the special moment that existed between him and Kira.

"Yo, Gin -"

"Not you, Abarai-san." Gin said sharply, "I gave you no permission to call me anything other than Ichimaru-sensei."

Renji rolled his eyes and said his next words with obvious annoyance and irritation, "Fine, Ichimaru-Sensei, I heard you say to that guy earlier you called our parents . . . I was just wondering what they said?"

"Well," Gin said, looking upwards as if deep in thought, with a rather innocent expression, "Izuru's parents said they'd dock his allowance this week and he's got to get special tutoring, that'd be from me," at that he smiled. "Your parents though . . . I believe Urahara-san said that Tessai-san was very upset, disappointed and hurt that you could betray their trust in such a way, especially as Jinta-kun has you – his big brother – as his role-model, it's such a bad influence. Urahara-san though said he didn't mind, you know, because you'd just opted to all stock-buying, shelf-stacking and stock-taking this weekend," he gave a big smile and tilted his head to one side, his eyes sharp and narrow, "but don't worry, Renji-kun, I'm ya friend. I won't punish you, even if ya parents will."

"Re – really?"

Gin smiled.

He could see the sparkle in Renji's eyes, the flicker of hope on his features and the newly found colour in his cheeks, he seemed alive again and completely relieved, like the world had just lifted off of his shoulders and allowed him to breathe once more. The expression was rather precious and sweet, and it made him rather envious of the parents he dealt with who got to see such faces on regular basis, maybe one day he'd have his own child whom he could see so happy as Renji was at that moment. It was amazing for him to think that his one promise could make one person so happy, it was rather sweet really.

Gin gave a very sweet smile and patted Renji firmly on his back, letting the other know he was special to his teacher and that his feelings mattered, and then shrugged his shoulders in a way to say 'it doesn't matter' whilst Renji's face grew to bright proportions. When the redhead finally gave into his relief he turned away and rested his arms against the bar top . . .

"I lied," Gin said firmly.

He watched as Renji's face fell completely and found a childish amusement in seeing the guy collapse his head against the bar top, probably giving himself concussion as he did so. He turned to Kira and tried not to laugh as he saw the poor guy's knees shaking, unable to hide his own nervousness and fear. My, if he'd have known it was so easy to play with these two he wouldn't have wasted his talents on tormenting Rukia! He waved energetically to Matsumoto and signalled for her attention.

"Right, a dry white wine please," he ordered cheerfully. "Put it on my friends' tabs."

Although Gin managed to hold back laughter when he heard Renji groan, Rangiku couldn't help it, she laughed as she fetched the drink and even laughed as she served Gin, who sipped happily.

"Cheer up you two," Gin said, listening to Renji whine and Kira nearly hyperventilate, "I'll be here all night."

This time he couldn't help but laugh at their reactions even if he tried.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four  
by Ray

"Okay," Soi Fon repeated for the thirtieth time today, "Okay, you can do this…" On a normally occasion she'd say with confidence that people who talked to themselves in the mirror were either incredibly insecure or incredibly lonely; therefore a complete waste of her time. "You can do this," she told herself again, resting her slim hands upon the sink.

Her gaze turned from her own reflection to the reflection of the dress that hung from a bronze hook on the back of the tan wood door. It was a beautiful dress: silver silken material, backless, shimmery when the light touched it… enclosed were a pair of silver elbow length gloves, and healed silver sandals which were placed in the far corner of her tidy bedroom.

"Pull yourself together," she said to her reflection rather firmly, "You're twenty-four-years-old. You're an adult," the slender bodyguard rubbed her temples irritably, "You march right up to her and return the dress… you're staff! You remind her you're just staff… and it's inappropriate for her to keep doing this…"

Unclenching her eyes, Soi Fon let out a groan; she rubbed the bridge of her nose, letting out a deep breath before opening her eyes. "Okay," she repeated, "I can do this."

Glancing briefly at her own reflection, the tight fitting black trousers, high necked polo shirt and baggy black sweater… it was a variation on the formal uniform she wore when she had to protect Yoruichi-sama outside the manor. She neatened up her short black hair, straightening her shirt and the angle of her collar before turning away from the mirror completely.

She lifted the dress off the hook, laying it delicately over her arm. Closing the bathroom door behind her, she bent down to pick up the shoes, balancing them in one arm; Soi Fon left her bedroom, hearing the automatic lock shut it up behind her as she made her way down the hallway to the largest bedroom at the end.

'Twenty-four', she reminded herself, 'you're hardly a blushing thirteen-year-old anymore; you can be more assertive towards her if you just try!' The only problem was that Yoruichi-sama was a terrifying person to try and assert authority over…

A year ago she had gone to the beach with Kisuke Urahara, (a man who in Soi Fon's opinion belonged in the deepest, darkest and most painful regions of Hell), Tessai, his partner, their three irritating children, and a few other friends of Yoruichi-sama who Soi Fon didn't really approve of. They had all stayed in the Shihoin summer manor with its own private beach. Despite insisting she was just there as staff, Yoruichi-sama bought her to the swimsuit shop… and chose the most hideously childish swimming costume for her. She'd tried to tell Yoruichi-sama this… but she hadn't paid the slightest bit of attention.

Today wouldn't be like that!

Reaching the door-handle, Soi Fon pushed it open and stepped inside, "Yoruichi-sama, I need to speak with you!"

Yoruichi Shihoin, who from a rather young age had been more of a goddess than a human to Soi Fon, was lounging back on the sofa in her bedroom, reading through a document. She was the most beautiful person she had ever seen, long dark limbs shown off in the short silken purple nightdress she wore. Her long violet hair pulled back into an elegant knot at the back of her head. Each feature seemed to be in the perfect place… She truly was perfection in human form…

Soi Fon felt that familiar floating feeling in her stomach the instant those deep amber eyes met hers.

"It's unlike you not to knock, Soi Fon," Yoruichi sighed, turning to look back at her, resting her palm against her face.

Instantly her nerve dissolved into the floor… Soi Fon felt her cheeks colour up a bright and disdainful red, "O-Oh," she turned to look at the door, "Yes, m'am," rushing to it, she stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Damn it… with a sentence… consisting of no more than seven words… she'd destroyed any chance of her being assertive… Soi Fon held her head miserably… nothing had really changed between now and the time she had been a blushing thirteen-year-old knelt at Yoruichi-sama's feet.

Raising a hand, Soi Fon knocked upon the door nervously. Or she was about too when Yoruichi opened the door wide. The colour flushed back into her face as she saw the older woman was laughing at her.

"Soi Fon, you actually left? Hahaha, you can't tell when I'm kidding, can you, after all these years? Look how red you are!"

Did she say thirteen? She meant to say three…

***

Someone was lying on top of him. That was the first thing he became aware of… Ikkaku Madarame groaned; wriggling his body upwards a little, there was something wet on his ear. There was the slightest moment when he thought he was lying in Yumi's bed, having his boyfriend lazily lick his ear in a pretty good attempt to get him up for early morning lovemaking…

He was about to be severely disappointed and perhaps horrified.

Upon opening his eyes, he discovered that he was gazing up at his Sensei's young daughter who was sat on his chest, dripping cold water onto his face from a stupid pink flask.

"W-W-What the hell are you doing?" he yelled angrily at her, jerking upright in a motion to throw her off of him. Yachiru instead laid her hand upon his shoulder, flipping herself up and over the headrest, landing gracefully on the carpet behind his bed.

"Good morning, baldy," she beamed at him affectionately, "Kenny said to give you some space but you're fun when you're hung-over!"

"I am not hung-over," Ikkaku grunted at her, holding his head as he forced himself into a seated position, "What did I tell you about barging into my room?"

"You're hardly ever here, so it shouldn't matter," the little girl stuck her tongue out at him, her hands on her hips glowering at him.

Ikkaku hissed at the high-pitched tone of her voice, "Hey – whether I'm here or not, you don't bother me in my room!" he rubbed the bridge of his nose before getting to his feet, "Shouldn't you be with Sensei?"

She let out a little 'pfft' noise, clearly unimpressed, "Kenny is being boring! I wanna play with Baldy today!"

Now this was looking bad. Normally Ikkaku quite liked kids (Well, it would be more truthful to say he didn't mind kids), but Kenpachi's little girl, Yachiru, was unlike any child he'd ever known: boundless energy, strength, speed, martial arts training, uncontrolled mischief, maximum ferocity… not to mention the fact that she was the apple of her daddy's eye.

Ikkaku rubbed his head, "I'm going to see Yumichika today, he's very busy, Yachiru, so it's best I go alone, okay," he hated the stinging pain in his head. He could understand completely why Sensei didn't really drink… this kid and a hangover could very well compete for a devastating torture method. Ikkaku through one mean or another was a bit of an addict for his drink. So on days he had a hang-over, his overall tendency was just to avoid Yachiru… and considering it was a weekend, beg Yumi to let him sleep the day at his, where there was guarantied to be no bad disturbances.

"You're gonna see Feathers? I wanna come – Baldly, take me to see Feathers!"

"No," he stomped past her, he needed to get to a bathroom ASAP as it was… groaning, the bald man rushed as fast as he could towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. "Go back to your house, Sensei told you not to hang out around here!"

"No fair – I like it here – you can't boss me around!"

With that he locked the bathroom door and collapsed to his knees, resting his head against the toilet seat. It was the lowest and most disgusting position he could think of. Normally he had a strong stomach, and didn't puke up after a night of heavy drinking… this morning however left him feeling at his lowest. He could still feel that horrible uneasiness in his belly, and wrapped both arms around his gut in a vain attempt to calm down.

Not the most productive way to begin the morning he had to say.

Ikkaku closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember what he could of last night… He'd parted ways with Iba at about four… the older man wanted to get ready for work (and, though he wouldn't admit it, ring his ma). He knew he'd spoken to Yumichika on the phone before he met Renji, because Yumi had mentioned seeing the redhead earlier, because when he clapped eyes on his best friend, Renji looked completely down in the dumps.

Most people probably thought he didn't, but he really did feel that vile guilt in his stomach every time he saw Renji. He wanted to ask about it, he really did, but the smart voice in the back of his head kept putting it off: Yumichika was a taboo subject between him and Renji. That much was certain in the least.

Every now and then he'd find himself thinking back to the days Renji and Yumichika were dating… Even the memories of it made him feel as miserable and irritated as he had back then. At first Renji had been so smitten, completely head over heels for this gorgeous and charming older guy. It was all he ever talked about when they were drinking together… In the beginning, Ikkaku thought he disliked the whole damn thing because he felt he was loosing his best friend. He remembered cornering Yumichika on top of the school roof and yelling at him; he didn't want Renji being messed around by some narcissist pretty boy asshole… It was immature of him, getting mad because it was the only way he knew to deal with the fact that he had a dumb crush on Renji's boyfriend; who could, in the end, be so very charming it was almost impossible to hate him for no good reason.

There was no misery like watching the two of them together. He always seemed to be watching their backs, their arms around each other… That dumb goofy look on Renji's face…

And then, one day Yumichika was looking back at him…

Ikkaku opened his eyes, lazily groping around the counter-top for a glass, or a mug… or any sort of container someone might have left. Letting out a little cry of enthusiasm as his hand fell upon a glass… wincing as he realized it had a rather old looking toothbrush inside… now that was nasty!

In the end he settled for a bucket, filling it with water he began to drink desperately needing to cleanse his throat of that gross hung-over feeling. That was much better… He was still wearing yesterday's clothes, which meant his Sensei probably tossed him on his bed and left him there. Now, despite how Yumichika would complain about him arriving wearing clothes he'd worn three days in a row… climbing out of the window and down the drainpipe would be the best way to avoid Yachiru!

Weighing up the options, Ikkaku opened the bathroom window, lifting himself up onto the ledge; he swung himself forwards, managing to wrap his legs around the drainpipe. In less than twenty minutes he'd be snuggled up on silken sheets in the company of someone very pretty, Ikkaku reassured himself as he slid down the drainpipe and landed carefully on his feet.

"So long," he called to the house, as he broke off into a run, just to be sure that Yachiru wasn't following him… Just to be sure…

***

Jushiro Ukitake gazed miserably at his own reflection in the mirror. It was a rare thing indeed that he let anything get him down. But today was definitely one of those days…

The white-haired man was stood facing the full-length mirror; he brushed his hair out of his eyes. He'd bought this suit in Paris with Shunsui three years ago before his illness got really bad… It looked so big on him, all it did was emphasise how shrunken his body had become. Leaning closer he rubbed the bags under his eyes, the fact that his skin seemed to have shrunk, making his cheeks seem hollow, even when he smiled, and his eyes look dead…

In the other room he could see Shunsui getting ready. He looked completely charming… the violet material of his suit was rich and only showed off the richness of his hair. The suit only completed the picture of the sophisticated gentleman his lover was.

Fixing his tie was the lovely Nanao. She was his assistant, therefore a miracle worker. It was through this brilliant woman Shunsui hadn't been fired, completed all of his reports, and had essays and homework marked, with his entire lesson plans sorted. Twenty-six-years-old, she was perfect for the position; not at all intimidated by Shunsui's charm or experience, she tended to treat him as a difficult child rather than a highly respectable man.

"Hold still, I can hardly make you look presentable if you keep moving around, Sensei!"

"Nanao-chan, it's hard for a man to stand still while in the presence of a beautiful woman," Shunsui purred, leaning down a little to whisper the words into her ear.

Jushiro rolled his eyes and let out a sad little sigh, looking away as he saw his lover's hand sneak down the material of Nanao's tight blue dress, his firm hand resting upon her backside.

"Hey," she slapped his hand off, "I swear I'll file that complaint for sexual harassment!"

He pouted his bottom lip, "I'm only playing," he folded his arms across his chest, "You're so serious, Nanao-chan. No wonder you're not married."

"Hey, shut-up, you old leech!"

Jushiro had to laugh a little bit, rubbing his hands against his cheeks to try and raise, even the slightest trace of colour. He couldn't hold it against Shunsui for wanting to touch or flirt with someone else… he'd always been like that.

And besides, he was always clipped around the ear for messing with Nanao-san… sort of like how one would deal with a lecherous child…

***

"You look radiant, as per usual, Yoruichi-san!"

Soi Fon's eyes shot towards Kisuke Urahara as he entered the room. Her grip tightened on her gun holster, hidden inside her thick combat jacket.

"Ah, Kisuke," Yoruichi rose from her chair in front of the dressing table, "I see you've made yourself presentable for me. Tessai-san's handy-work no doubt?"

She wanted to snort in sheer distain. Kisuke Urahara was one of the untidiest and most revolting human beings she had ever born witness too. No matter what he did with his blonde hair, to Soi Fon, he always looked as though he'd just gotten out of bed (and people who didn't look like they'd made an effort to be in Yoruichi-sama's presence were instantly disliked). He had quite nice pale green eyes, which Soi Fon supposed others might find attractive. But his face was often drawn into a frightfully carefree smile and dotted with stubble (so he hadn't even bothered to shave then… typical).

His lazy appearance reflected his irritatingly laid-back personality perfectly!

Yoruichi-sama would describe Kisuke Urahara as a 'lazy genius' (and even Soi Fon could not deny the fact that the man was brilliant), and 'casually handsome'. The two of them were childhood friends so she was always making excuses for him; using clever positive words to hide the fact he was an incompetent lazy bum (Although Soi Fon had been called harsh in her time). As well as being childhood friends, and few people knew this, but Yoruichi and Kisuke had been lovers during their teenage experimental years. It was another reason to hate his guts.

She must have been about seven or eight years old, but she could remember entering Yoruichi-sama's room to drop off her laundry and catching a glimpse of the two of them lying in bed together. He was still sleeping, on his front with his face pressed against her chest, nuzzling in against her soft violet hair…

She blinked as she realized her finger was resting upon the trigger of her gun.

"Kisuke, you remember Soi Fon, don't you?" Yoruichi-sama's voice brought her out of her little flashback.

"Oh yes," he waved childishly at her.

Soi Fon shot him a vague false smile, folding her arms across her chest. This was awkward… she was a trained killing machine, not a social animal. Yoruichi-sama said it was cute, but she couldn't even try hiding when she disliked someone (unless they were her employer).

"So are you and Tessai-san here?" Yoruichi asked, turning back to her mirror, bending over slightly to fasten her earrings, "I haven't spoken with him in a while."

Kisuke grinned, "Of course he's here. I'm afraid I lost him in the lobby; he's catching up with Hachi-san. It was fortunate for our cars to arrive at the same time."

Yoruichi glanced at him briefly as she lazily fixed her appearance, "Oh yes. I bet you'll be looking forward to seeing Hirako-san as well?"

"He's not with the Vizards at the moment actually," Kisuke laughed quietly, "He's having car trouble, so naturally Hiyori-san is bad-mouthing him in the lobby already."

She rolled her eyes, "She's never changed, has she? Oh, I was meaning to ask, how are the children?"

In Soi Fon's opinion, she felt incredible pity for any child raised by Kisuke Urahara (and if not for Tessai-san, she had to wonder if he had bribed the adoption agency). Although, taking his partner into account would probably loosen the binds of mental scarring the poor child would suffer.

What a man like Tessai-san saw in Kisuke Urahara, she did not know!

"They're fine," he nodded, adding a slightly affectionate sigh, "Renji is in trouble, he skipped school the other day to go to Rangiku-san's bar!" The man chuckled mischievously, "and he thought I'd never find out too!"

"Oh to be young again," Yoruichi laughed with him, "Kisuke, give me a hand," she gestured to the golden chocker on her dressing table. "I can never do it right myself."

On looking closer at it, Soi Fon recognized it almost instantly. It was a gift from a foreign prince: gold with embroidered rubies… it looked completely exquisite on her dark neck.

She felt herself aching with jealousy when she saw Kisuke Urahara lift it from the table and stand behind her mistress at the mirror, his fingers touching the soft skin of her neck ever so slightly…

"There," Kisuke said with a triumphant sigh, "You look perfect!"

Soi Fon took a small step closer, feeling an urge to murder the idiot man before her… not only was he touching Yoruichi-sama… but his top button was undone, and he stank like his stupid store!

Oh, how she would smile if this man were to just combust!

Yoruichi glanced over at Soi Fon's reflection in the mirror. She smirked to herself, "You should begin getting ready also, Soi Fon."

"B-But Yoruichi-sama!" she protested, taking another step forwards, "I am staff – I thought you said that I would be there as staff tonight – we agreed this morning!"

"And as my staff," the older woman interrupted firmly, "I expect you to be well dressed," she turned to her wardrobe and produced the dress she had surprisingly easily accepted back this morning.

"That's an order, Soi Fon," she said firmly, just to make sure it had sunk in that she couldn't avoid this. "Now run along and get dressed."

Trying her best not to glare and snatch the dress, Soi Fon picked it up delicately, "Yes, m'am."

Kisuke laughed a little as he caught sight of the dress in her arms, "Such a dress! Is she over eighteen, Yoruichi-san?" he joked; though he wasn't entirely sure if she was or not…

Instantly she felt her temper prickle and cursed herself as soon as she noticed the instant heat in her face, "I'm twenty-four-years-old!" She snapped at him, brushing past him for good measure and leaving the room as fast as possible.

Stupid man!

***

Grimmjow Jeagerjaques groaned as he heard that persistent hammering on the door. He was juggling with a rather important telephone call, his pot noodle dinner recently snatched from the microwave, and the cat food.

His cat, Pantera, was stepping on and around his feet dangerously, an irritating habit she had when she was hungry.

"Yeah, urm, yes, Yammy, okay, whatever you want, we can discuss it with the client on Monday, okay?" He snapped irritably, "No, this isn't a bad time…" he paused to take a mouthful of pot noodle… or at least what he thought was pot noodle…

"Oh FUCK – FUCK – FUCK ME!" he cursed angrily, tossing the phone onto the table, throwing the cat food and the pot noodle to the floor, the blue haired male lurched over the sink to spit out the disgusting tuna flavoured cat mix.

The knocking kept getting louder and louder… it was driving him completely insane! If it was Luppi again – he was going to tear his skinny little neck off and spit in the hole!

Grabbing the phone and snarling at Yammy (who apparently found what he'd just heard completely hilarious), Grimmjow stomped towards the front door; he noticed his cat was now munching away on the fallen bag of cat food, what had spilled all over the floor, and his ruined pot noodle…

What kind of world would rob a man from his dinner?

"What?" he demanded furiously as he opened his door, before his gaze fell upon his boyfriend. Instantly the blue haired lawyer's expression softened and he swallowed nervously, "Hi…"

Ichigo looked completely unimpressed at being kept waiting outside for at least ten minutes, his brown eyes narrowed coldly.

"Yammy, I gotta go," he said quickly, hanging up before his partner could make any sort of snide and stupid remark. Pocketing his phone and praying that his breath didn't smell like cat food, he shot Ichigo a gruff look, "Can I help you?"

"Shift your ass," Ichigo snapped at him, pushing past and tossing his rucksack into the living room, landing promptly on the sofa he often lived on. "Hey, do you have any drinks in?"

Grimmjow took a seat beside the rucksack, rubbing his temples irritably, "Erm… there's some beer in the fridge?"

"I'm too young too drink, moron, remember?"

He sighed. This would require effort… The blue-haired man rubbed his forehead as he entered the kitchen. He had a bottle of water under the sink, or he could still have those orange juice cartons he and Yammy had won at the Company Quiz… The last place he'd seen those damn things… was under the cupboard.

"I think I have bottled water and stuff?" he bent down to the sink, opening the cupboard door… There it was! "Here," he tossed the bottle to his boyfriend.

"Thanks," he grunted at him, undoing the lid, "So, the water main is still broken?" he gestured to the sink.

Grimmjow grumbled to himself, "Well, I have water running again… I just wouldn't want to drink it," he wrinkled his nose teasingly, his grin widening as Ichigo laughed quietly.

"I guess I'll have to make it last me," he said, shaking the bottle a little.

"Or you could give into forbidden fruit?" he teased, uncorking his beer after he'd taken it from the fridge.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, "How about no? You just wanna get me drunk."

"You caught me."

He was teased and patted on the back by his friends for the fact he was dating a high-schooler. Grimmjow was not the sort of man who let the opinions or disapproval of others affect his decisions, but seriously, anyone who had issues with him dating a young male, should just look at Ichigo.

The boy had originally just been some damn punk who always got in his way (this was way back when Grimmjow was in the street gangs and not a semi-professional lawyer). The two of them had been perfectly matched in beating the living shit out of each other.

But as time drew them together, he'd looked at Ichigo; really looked at him… he was fucking hot, something nobody could deny!

Even now, it was hard to keep his hands off him. What wasn't there to like? He was gorgeous, and he was completely unaware of it… that made him almost painfully cute to tease.

"Hey, stop staring at me," Ichigo snapped at him suddenly, his cheeks had turned that precious shade of pink. He looked so irresistible like this!

"Sorry," Grimmjow smirked, draining some more of his beer and opening an arm for Ichigo.

Recently the orange haired boy had been much more affectionate towards him. Ichigo had problems with affection; in all the time he'd known him, as a brat, or seeing him with his friends, it was obvious to anyone who watched him enough, that Ichigo didn't do hugs, he didn't do arm around the shoulders, he didn't do playful spanking…

It was sweet and very reassuring that little by little Ichigo was warming up to him.

"So, you're staying the night?" he asked, as Ichigo wrapped an arm around his waist, resting his head on Grimmjow's shoulder.

"Yeah, if that's cool?" he muttered, "My dad is going to some fancy party. Karin and Yuzu are at a friend's house for a sleepover… so I didn't want to spend the whole night on my own."

Grimmjow chuckled, letting the charming sound tease Ichigo's earlobe, "Can't you just admit that you missed me?"

Ah, there it was… that adorable blush again. Oh no, he'd embarrassed him!

Ichigo yanked away from him, crossing his arms across his chest, "Oh yeah, like that'd ever happen, you idiot!"

Now although when he liked someone… no, that was a complete lie; with his dating record (something he considered to be rather disgraceful) it was pretty damn clear that he'd never been serious about anyone.

Ichigo was different. He wanted him like he'd never wanted anyone else… Nobody had ever made him feel this way before.

Anyway, it was because of his embarrassing and somewhat girly feelings for Ichigo, which made him patient when it came to the more… intimate sections of their relationship.

On any record for him, it would have been almost crazy for him to date a guy for more than a month without fucking his brains out. Now that was something that had never happened to him before.

Obviously, he was a man with a powerfully demanding sex drive (probably because his last lover of sorts had been Luppi, who was a creepy little deviant), and there were times were, as bad as he'd feel later, he'd push for a little more intimacy. Nothing drastic of course, it wasn't like he got Ichigo to bend over a table while he shoved strange vibrating pieces of plastic into his backside. But it was hardly criminal to ask for a proper kiss, or a cheeky grope. Right?

"So, Ichii, you want to stay at mine without paying board? Eat my good which I paid for with the pittance Aizen pays me?" Grimmjow teased him, raising a hand to capture Ichigo's chin between his forefinger and thumb.

His cheeks were now bright red, but he didn't push him away… his chest was rising and falling rapidly, "S-So, err… what would make up for my inconveniencing you?" he said sarcastically, but there was definitely a precious virginal tone in his words, which made this whole situation a million times more worthwhile!

"How about a kiss?" he leant in, purring the words into his ear, Grimmjow was beaming at him as he watched the hesitant stubbornness clash with the curious longing in Ichigo's eyes.

The younger male leant up on tiptoe, letting out an irritated growl, "Fine… but just one kiss for now, okay?"

'For now', eh? So there was a hint of the promise of more later?

"Ah, thanks," Grimmjow whispered. He drew his face in closer, raising a hand to Ichigo's chest, resting upon the space between his jaw and earlobe, his other arm slipped around his waist. Ichigo let out a little gasp of breath before their lips pressed together.

The kiss was sweet at first, tender and patient. He let Ichigo control it for now, but his firm grip to his spiky hair and slim hip left an underlying tone of the control Grimmjow had. After a few seconds, Ichigo tilted his head to the side, to give the blue haired man leverage to deepen their kiss. Grimmjow smirked a little as he used his tongue to gently probe apart his lips, feeling that familiar and so far, unfulfilled rush of blood to his groin as Ichigo emitted a quiet moan, his grip on Grimmjow's collar tightened. The blue haired man lowered his hand and squeezed that firm little bubble butt roughly; a little too roughly it would seem, as Ichigo released his shirt and gently pushed him back, panting ever so softly.

"So has that 'earned my keep'?" he teased, though the look on his face stated that should Grimmjow say 'no', he'd be more than liable for a thrashing.

Well, it was funny to antagonize him.

"Nope."

***

Byakuya glanced awkwardly at his reflection. He looked every second the part of the Head of the Kuchiki Family, even if he did look a little tired and longing to leave…

"Hey, I didn't expect to see Byakuya-kun at my party, it's not even my birthday!"

His reflection, pale with the slightest hint of purple bags under his intense grey eyes, but until Yoruichi Shihoin's reflection appeared beside his, he hadn't really considered that he looked unhealthy.

"Well, you did invite me," he turned away from the mirror to face her. From a young age he'd known to fear that evil cat like grin of hers… that woman was a menace of the highest degree, sex symbol or not.

She reached up, opening her slender dark arms for him and drew him into a stiff embrace, "I'm glad you came."

Despite how he would claim to dislike her, Yoruichi Shihoin was one of his dearest friends in her own right. Probably to do with the fact that she had been too old to be put off by his impossible temper and irreproachableness, in fact she'd enjoyed teasing him into an awkward friendship. It was the only word for their bond really because if he had to think about it, at all the times in his life he'd needed someone, it was normally the charming older woman sat at his side.

It had been Yoruichi who sat beside him in the hospital when his sister passed away. It was Yoruichi who held his arm at his wife's funeral, at the point in his life where he felt so weak he would fall to the ground if it wasn't for her holding him upright. Consequently, and he could remember little of the event, but when he was twelve or thirteen he was kidnapped, and it was Yoruichi who had helped rescue him.

The ebony haired male released her, "I do apologize for my lack of appearance," he sighed straightening up his suit a little; "I have been incredibly busy with my work."

She laughed aloud, "You can't keep a good man down, eh?" tilting her head to one side she offered him an arm, "Let's join the party, I can think of a few ladies who'd delight in meeting the great Byakuya Kuchiki!"

"Oh God, I do hope you're joking," he groaned, giving in as he hooked his arm in hers, letting the older woman lead him out into the lit hallway of the party.

There were a lot of familiar faces he could spot already as they entered the hall. The entire room was lit up with bright lights from candles giving it all the appearance of a fantasy ball. The buffet table was enormous; he could see and smell a few fine delicacies. Yoruichi was only ever so proper around this sort of company, he knew full well that she would just as happy with cheap take out food or pot noodle so long as there was a lot of it). She managed to tackle her role as the Head of her family and a proper young woman, as well as her out-going social personality; something Byakuya envied in her quite a lot.

Out of all the people he could see he spotted Rukia's friend Ichigo's father, Isshin Kurosaki and his partner in business, Ryuken Ishida. The two of them were stood by the food, Ishida looking rather embarrassed by the fact that his partner was stuffing his face quite happily and showing strangers photographs of his children. Byakuya had once been caught by Isshin-san, who had shown him a series of photos of his children attempting to avoid the camera in a variety of locations… To be honest it was a little bit disturbing for Byakuya.

Among the crowds were a group of frivolous minded young woman already gaping at him. He recognized two of them from a few others of these parties he'd attended: Isane Kotesu and her younger sister Kiyone. He was sure Kiyone was the blonde younger sister based on the fact she was, like now, always fighting with her fiancé, whose name totally escaped him. The older Isane he remembered because she worked with Unohana-san at the hospital.

He also recognized Nanao Ise, the personal assistant of Kyoraku-san. Right now she appeared to be acting as some sort of human shield between the group of girls and her boss… Kyoraku-san was waving stupidly at them and trying to peer around her current assistant, and his old one, Lisa Yadomaru who had the same expression as Nanao-san, her arms folded across her chest. Any woman who had to work with a bumbling womaniser like Kyoraku-san had to have the patience of a Saint…

Byakuya's eyes followed Kyoraku back to Ukitake-san, who had his back to Byakuya, chattering away to Unohana-san and a few people he couldn't quite recognize from the distance. He hoped to catch up with Ukitake-san later…

A few feet away was Shinji Hirako, he barely recognized him with that short bob. It suited him… he wondered briefly how long it had been short… he really was out of touch. On preference, Byakuya didn't really associate with men like Hirako-san, who was loud and common in his speech. There were rumours, and as a Kuchiki and a man of his standing, Byakuya cared little for rumours, but he had heard that a few years ago Shinji Hirako and Sosuke Aizen, the lawyer, had been lovers.

Chatting earnestly to Shinji was Kisuke Urahara and his partner, Tessai Tsukabishi. He had nothing against Urahara, he was good natured and pleasant to be in the company of, if a little eccentric. Byakuya glanced away when he saw the tenderness in their touch as Urahara raised a hand to rub gently on his husband's back.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Byakuya smiled politely as a few men came forwards to greet him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Kyoraku-san leading a coughing Ukitake-san out for some air. He looked a little worried and decided to leave the two alone instead of pursuing them, loosing himself in some of the usual pointless small talk. His attention drawn to a conversation occurring behind him…

"Hiyori cut it out! I think you've had enough of that damn punch!"

"Oh get bent, dick-head! It's not like I'm not old enough!"

"Ain't you ever heard that an adult knows when t' stop?"

"Ain't you never heard that it's not a man's place to order a lady around, Shinji?"

"Huh! A lady – my ass!"

"Oh well, your ass is the hot spot of the fucking city, isn't it, shit for brains?"

"Waah – Kensei! Shin-Shin and Hiyo-rin are fighting again!"

"What the hell do you want me to do about it?"

Stood behind him were the producers of one of the most popular publication companies in the industry. They had many magazines and even endorsed some several popular novels as well as manga series. The name of that company was Vizard. From what he knew about the Vizards was that they had no senior authority, the company was run between the eight of them, and there was no main CEO or a Boss.

Shinji Hirako was in charge of the main magazine, it was mostly general interest based; though he was the leading force in several of their factions, but mostly when partnered with a few of his colleagues.

Hiyori Sarugaki, the young blonde girl who had apparently drunk too much punch, was the photographer, she also wrote articles for every one of the magazines. She was widely considered to be a bit of a jack-of-all-trades in the publishing industry; he first remembered seeing her when she was in her early teens, when she worked part time at Urahara's store.

Lisa Yadomaru (and people supposed it was Kyoraku's influence) was in charge of a magazine which was designed for men. Byakuya wasn't the sort to take an interest in such things, but the main focus seemed to be swimsuit models.

Love Aikawa; whom Byakuya spotted in a large circle of others, laughing and chatting loudly, was in control of the manga Vizard produced, as well as selecting and supporting those they sponsored. His assistants and those they endorsed were all plucky young manga artists, some of which were with them tonight.

Kensei Muguruma was the muscle of the group. He held a reputation for acting as a bodyguard to the Vizards, he also a ran a magazine which specialised in sports, with true life experiences and the very latest new and pictures of extreme sport. When it came to martial arts, he was almost as well equipped as Yoruichi's Soi Fon.

Rojuro Otoribashi, or Rose (as he was known to everyone), and Mashiro Kuna ran, possibly the most popular of the Vizard media: a fashion magazine which the two of them often represented in public. It seemed hard to believe the two of them were in their late thirties, Mashiro being one of the oldest in the group at thirty-nine. He had heard, not that he paid a lot of interest to this sort of thing, that the Vizard Fashion Magazine had recently employed the most beautiful male model.

"Oh yeah, Shinji, yer oh so damn quick t' bitch at me! An' yer haven't said fuck all t' Kensei, bringin' his toy boy!"

Byakuya headed over to the buffet, keeping in the company of a few others, so he could get away with uttering 'yes' and 'no' when appropriate, while he was watching the party before him.

Muguruma's toy boy or so Sarugaki-san had implied, looked only a few years older than Rukia. He was dark haired and very attractive, his left cheek branded with a tattoo of the number 69. The boy flushed in embarrassment when he heard the woman's words.

"Oh yer just jealous c'os ya still look about 12!"

"I DO NOT! I have breasts see, ya dick-head, Shinji!"

Byakuya had to wonder how these hooligans made it as such a success in the business world. A mystery he had to guess…

***

"Hiyori-san is as lively as ever," Kisuke laughed casually as he sipped his wine, "I'm glad to see adulthood hasn't softened her tongue."

Lisa shot him a look, "Then you're the only person in the world who is, Kisuke-san."

Yoruichi laughed, leaning her arm on Kisuke's shoulder, she was slightly shorter than him, unless she was in heels. "How old is Hiyori-chan? I know she was thirteen when she worked for you, but I have no idea how long ago that was?"

The blond frowned, rubbing his head as though in deep thought, "You know… I'm not sure either… I could swear she's older than your Soi Fon… but I can't remember how far back her twenty-first birthday was…"

The green-eyed man shrugged her shoulder and pushed up her glasses, "If she was twenty-five, I'm sure we'd have all heard about it by now…"

"Unless Hiyori-san has become the sort of woman who hides her age…"

The three of them looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders, "Oh well."

Kisuke glanced up as Tessai returned from a quieter corner of the room, pocketing his mobile phone. "What's wrong?" he asked.

The larger man laughed heartily, "Ururu-chan just wanted to inform me that Jinta-kun has run off to play with his friends."

His eyes narrowed, "And Renji just let him go?"

"Oh, well it would appear that Renji-kun fell asleep while polishing the shop floor," he rested a hand on his partner's shoulder, "your punishments never fail to work even the most energetic to the bone."

The blonde male grinned brightly, flashing his teeth, "It'll knock any truanting straight out of his funny little head… Isn't that what I said?"

"It is."

They had once been asked by a joking Shinji, which one of them was the mother in their family. If you based it upon his slighter appearance and delicate facial features (no matter how he masked them with stubble), Kisuke Urahara was in no way the nurturing motherly type. He was the sort of father who set his children impossible and bordering on child cruelty chores, he was the sort of father who'd say 'well, get over it', or 'whatever will be, will be'.

Tessai was the one who bandaged their bruises and chatted about school… hell he even made them packed lunches. Despite his gruff appearance, there was nobody more motherly than Tessai.

"So, Yoruichi-san," he beamed at her, "You look radiant tonight, are those real rubies?" He pushed his glasses up his nose, looking eagerly at the slender woman.

She winked at him, "Oh you always know just how to embarrass me!"

***

Soi Fon smiled politely as she handed the white haired man his drink, "lime water?" she said, just to make sure she'd gotten to correct thing.

Jushiro Ukitake smiled back, some warmth flashing back into his cheeks, "Thank you, Soi Fon. You are too kind."

Out of all Yoruichi-sama's guests, Ukitake was her favourite. He was good-natured, polite, and focused. He was also incredibly kind, and not in a false sense. For some reason even she herself could not quite explain, she really genuinely liked him. Even in his illness he never lost an ounce of decency, he was brave and admirable.

"I'm staff, and it was no bother," she straightened up, turning her gaze to the French windows, it was dark outside… it hadn't been late the last time she looked at the clock… Time must be flying. "So, I hear you've been working on your garden again?" She asked, turning her eyes back to Ukitake, trying not to notice, as she was prone to do, the bags under his eyes, his slouch, the malnourishment in his whole frame, because once she thought he looked unwell, the fact he was dying would be unavoidable.

He brushed back his hair, looking excited at the mention of his garden, "Oh yes! It's been a lot of fun; I've got it looking absolutely beautiful again. I was in fact thinking of inviting Yoruichi and yourself to come and see."

"We would enjoy that, Yoruichi-sama especially. She has missed seeing you."

He had noticed that quite often Soi Fon would say 'she' in reference to Yoruichi, but mean herself. It was a rather cute habit actually, but he was too nice to point it out to her.

"I don't mean to sound at all perverse, but you look very beautiful tonight."

Her cheeks went pink, "O-Oh, err… Thank you very much…" People were normally too intimidated by her to ever compliment her appearance. She was critically acclaimed for her combat skills from the age of seven. Only drunk old men or compete and utter morons who couldn't sense her danger, ever tried to come onto her. Yoruichi-sama complimented her and teased her out of her defensive armour, and a rare man like Jushiro Ukitake always made her blush like a schoolgirl.

He was dying and meant every word he said.

"Why, is that the lovely Soi Fon?"

Her blush vanished and her dark eyes narrowed as she felt Shunsui Kyoraku's hand on her naked back. "Take it off or I'll break it off."

Normally she'd just dislocated his wrist and have done with it; but she liked Ukitake and he loved Kyoraku (God only knew why), so petty threats would have to do.

He laughed merrily at her, his hands raised mockingly as he moved to stand beside Ukitake, "I see you've been keeping Jushiro company for me."

Soi Fon grunted, "He's fine company, I have no idea what he sees in you."

"Hey, Soi Fon!"

Marechiyo Ômaeda was heading her way… he was one of her least favourite people in the world, a potential second to Kisuke Urahara. Words that described were: oaf, fatso, lumax, vile, piglike, disgusting, waste of life… She had no idea how he'd gotten away from stuffing his fat mouth at the buffet, though she was glad he wasn't out there putting all the other guests off their food…

"Do excuse me, Ukitake-san."

Instantly she bolted for the hallway leading back to the party. On a normal day she'd have been able to simple walk away from him while he panted after her like a dumb dog.

"Hello – Soi Fon – hello!"

"What is it?" she demanded, turning to give him a look that made kung-fu masters shiver in fear. Unfortunately, Omaeda came under the complete and utter moron category… and he looked like he'd had a few too many cups of punch.

"You look mighty pretty tonight," he said, once he'd caught his breath.

"I'm well aware," she sneered, resting a hand on her hip, "Was there something you wanted?"

"Ran outta peanuts," he slurred, his hand embedded in a large crystal bowl of fish eggs… his dirty wet hand on Yoruichi-sama's bowl made her want to slaughter him…

It made her feel absolutely sick to watch him stuff his face. To Yoruichi-sama, or anyone she respected, she would always insist she was staff, but to pigs like him, she was always, even when she was about thirteen, a highly esteemed guest.

"Don't you think you're a little busy stuffing your face full of fish eggs?" she shot at him sharply, "You mistake me for someone who gives a shit if you already scoffed down half the peanuts."

He looked dazed and confused by her response, shaking his head as though he hadn't heard her right, "But you're staff?"

And faking her noble streak for all she was worth, "Excuse me! I am an esteemed guest! How dare you confuse me with staff, you miserable man!"

He stood there, scratching his head like an ape, "Erm… err, but… sorry?"

"Good day," she snapped and turned around, taking off her heels and stomping briskly towards the exit and the ballroom, "Animal," she taunted as she closed the door behind her.

Oh the things you can get away with when Yoruichi-sama isn't around…

***

"Excuse me, sir, you aren't on the guest list!"

Kenpachi Zaraki laughed aloud, brushing past the spidery little man who had stood terrified in front of him, his hands shaking as he held out the guest list.

"Sir, Sir!" He called after him, though there was a considerable amount of relief in his voice that he wasn't blocking Kenpachi's path any longer.

Passing through another door, he spotted a drunken fat man lying on the ground… Now that was amusing… But not quite what he was looking for. Moving to enter the next pair of doors, Kenpachi wondered what sort of person lived in this house, it was a woman from what he remembered Gin telling him… What sort of woman needed golden doorknobs? Kuchiki probably lived in a house like this one… Rich people were peculiar things and he was keen to observe them.

The room he entered was a grand ballroom lit with damn candles and pixie lights. It looked like something from one of those fairy tales Yachiru loved so very much (even if she did have a habit of squealing 'Yay, Kenny!' whenever a monster or troll or beast was introduced…) Speaking of Yachiru, he did hope she'd stayed with the babysitter this time… the secretary of his whose name he never remembered… Maki-Maki or Sneaky Beard – no, that was just what Yachiru called him!

Anyway, the residents of this party all looked loaded and extremely well dressed. He supposed that was why they were all staring at him with their mouths open… his clothes weren't much on variation since he'd met Kuchiki, hardly appropriate for the country club, he joked to himself.

He spotted one familiar face, Kisuke Urahara… he owned that shop Yachiru bought candies from. His oldest boy was the redheaded joker Ikkaku palled around with; though he hardly recognized the man without his dumb hat.

No sign of Kuchiki though…

"Sir!" The drippy looking man from before caught up with him. He was completely pale and his eyes were darting around for some sort of help… clearly his job was on the line if he messed it up, otherwise there was no way he'd go chasing after a man like Kenpachi Zaraki, whether you knew who he was or not. This idiot must be looking for moral support in the hall or something…

Support that seemed to come in the form of a small Chinese chick.

"May I see your invitation, sir?" She asked. Her voice was really cold and arrogant. Well at least it was a leg up from Mr Too-Scared-to-Talk, now cowering behind her.

"I think it's pretty obvious I don't have one," he said bluntly, "You gonna kick me out, little girl?"

Her eyes narrowed and her arm shot out to seize his wrist, or she would have done so if his hand hadn't caught hers in his, encasing it in an iron grip.

He probably shouldn't have gotten cocky, because he was too busy smirking to block her as she jabbed him violently in the stomach. Kenpachi grunted in pain, keeling over a little bit, furiously he tightened his grip; it must be hurting her, but if it was she wasn't showing…

"What seems to be the problem here, Soi Fon?"

Both of them looked away from each other to gaze up at the speaker. She was indeed very lovely, hot body, nice face. She didn't look as snobby as the others. In fact he wouldn't have placed her as the hostess and the owner of the golden doorknobs until he noticed how the girl he was grabbing, instantly dropped her head submissively.

"I apologize, Yoruichi-sama. I was just removing this man from the party."

The hostess had a cat like smile, she laughed and stepped closer so she was stood beside them, "I'm Shihoin Yoruichi. You must really want to stay if you crossed Soi Fon. What's your name?"

"Kenpachi Zaraki," he smirked at her, "Nice to meet you, lady."

"The pleasure is all mine… Well, Kenpachi Zaraki, I can't say I like people causing trouble in my home," she raised a hand on top of his and with surprising ease, pulled it from Soi Fon's wrist.

So she was pretty and strong. She'd totally be his type if he liked women.

The Chinese girl was glaring at him, clearly embarrassed about her boss having to bail her out.

Yoruichi Shihoin grinned, a hand on his back, leading him down into the party, "Stay and enjoy yourself, just don't pick any more fights."

He winked at her with his good eye, "Thanks, you're a real babe."

Looking back the Chinese chick, who was now eyeballing him like she wanted to strangle him… He'd just made a friend.

Kenpachi strode proudly towards the punch; now providing the other man hadn't left, finding Kuchiki would be a piece of cake!

He blinked twice as he spotted Retsu Unohana who he unwillingly accepted as his doctor, she was stood chattering away to a group of men and women, her busty silver haired assistant was with her as normal.

Noticing his gaze, she smiled politely at her friends, excusing herself as she came to talk to him. "Hello there, Zaraki-san," she beamed at him, "How is your knee?"

The last time he had to see his doctor it had been due to a certain little girl named Yachiru leaving her toys all over the staircase for innocent bystanders to trip on… But he'd told everyone it was through vigorous training.

"Like it was before I broke it," he grinned at her, "How you been, Unohana?"

She sipper her drink, "I can't complain. I spend most of my time teaching these days."

He nodded his head, "Me too. That and watching Yachiru, she's getting challenging now she's six."

Unohana laughed, "I haven't seen her in ages. You must bring her down to say hello to me."

"I will, I will. Hey, you should be glad you haven't seen her. Means she's healthy as a horse."

"Just like her daddy."

He couldn't help but puff out his chest a little in pride. It was his biggest weakness, the unconditional affection he felt for his daughter.

Suddenly his eyes fell upon Byakuya Kuchiki who was heading out to one of the balconies. He licked his lips, glancing back to Unohana, he smiled gruffly, "Excuse me, Unohana. There's someone I need to catch up with," he nodded to her before boldly striding towards the balcony door.

It was a rare thing indeed for him to pursue someone in an intimate sex. His life had a pattern, fight, eat, fight, fuck and fight. Fighting was his whole life, now it was juggled with Yachiru (and even that combined fighting to a degree (if she was eager to kick ass, then who was he to deny her that?)). For the first time in a long time he found himself wanting after a specific person… And he wanted Kuchiki!

There was something about his arrogant, calculating eyes; he'd seen the other looking at him when he thought he wasn't looking. Kenpachi loved stubborn men, and he'd always had an eye for things just out of his reach.

Byakuya Kuchiki was a treasure to behold… soft black hair, silky, pretty boy liked to care for himself… he had grey eyes, a lovely feature, especially when cloaked with those long dark lashes.

But it was more than that… Kuchiki looked like a man who never lost his composure, and there was nothing sexier than an uptight man becoming completely undone by rough fucking! He wanted to see that cold drawn face flushed pink in ecstasy, tears leaking from those grey eyes as he tried to vain to quite those sweet desperate little screams…

He wanted Kuchiki!

"What on earth are you doing here, Zaraki?"

His tone was cold and uninterested, but he hadn't pretended to forget his name.

"It's a party, Kuchiki. Nobody's told me to leave," he took a step towards him. For men like Byakuya Kuchiki, he had most likely never been dominated before… So it was all the more thrilling for him to little by little show how he could enforce it through sheer strength.

"Yoruichi always did have… strange tastes," Byakuya sneered, not quite turning his back on him, but leaning away, his eyes gazing out at his friend's estate; trying not to become aware of the fact that the other man had almost got him pressed against the balcony ledge.

Kenpachi shrugged, his eyes shamelessly stripping Byakuya's suit clad form… He wondered if the great Byakuya Kuchiki had ever engaged in such an act as homosexual intercourse… from the way he was checking him out last night, he could say it was about 50/50…

"Are men of your calibre prone to just stare gormlessly?" he asked coldly, "Because in decent company, it's rude."

He took a small step closer, "You know you can learn a lot about a person from looking at them."

Byakuya took a small step backward, "What a pathetic excuse."

His words and actions were negative, but there was something about his eyes… his slight (and it was ever so slight) smirk upon his lips, which egged Kenpachi on.

"It's not an excuse. I've learnt a lot about you right now," Kenpachi Zaraki was not a man to enjoy bullshit. He made his intentions clear, no use hiding them like a coward or a damn sneaky woman!

"Is that so?"

"Yes," he stepped in again, now he leant in, his breath caressing the others ear as he whispered, "You haven't been laid in a while… Need any help with that?" To match the tone of his voice, he ground his hips upwards provocatively.

It was hot, Kuchiki's eyes narrowed and he raised his hands, moving to try and push him back a little, but Kenpachi didn't move, keeping his eyes locked on those deep grey ones.

"That isn't a no, Kuchiki?" he purred in a low tone, leaning down so his breath tickled his ear. Lowering his hand to wrap around the slender ebony haired man's waist, he pressed him up against the balcony.

"Oh for goodness sake, you wanted to come outside to smoke so here you are, the whole balcony to yourself… Ooh, not quite!"

He spun around to see two guys who were stood embarrassedly in the doorway. Isshin Kurosaki stood there awkwardly, his hand on the door handle, bright childish eyes wide, biting his lip as though trying to decide on something to say. Ryuken Ishida looked completely unimpressed on being burst into this scene, a cigarette dangling from his lower lip, a lighter in his raised hand.

"Erm, well I hate to interrupt you guys while you're… doing your thing, ermm?" Isshin gabbled, going to close the door frantically, unfortunately he slammed it on Ryuken's foot, causing the doctor to drop his lighter, his cigarette and his composure as he cursed angrily in pain.

Kuchiki seemed to have recovered himself, much to Kenpachi's irritation. He seized the larger man by the shirt and shoved him back. "Stay away from me, you filth," he sneered at him angrily into his ear, before turning and pulling the door open again. "You didn't interrupt anything, I was merely making sure Zaraki-san knew not to cause any common trouble at this event," he informed the two men as he brushed past them and headed back into the crowd.

Kurosaki and Ishida exchanged glances but said no more to Kenpachi as he sulkily followed the other man out… Maybe not tonight, but another day… He had his number as it was.

Byakuya Kuchiki was going to see a lot more of him!

***

On the drive home Shunsui began to worry… Jushiro was being quiet again. It was probably just over-reacting, but every time his partner was quiet and still when he slept, his body racked with worry.

He glanced over at Jushiro again, he was shivering slightly.. still breathing… Reaching across for a second, he stroked his cheek gently, brushing some loose strands of soft white hair behind his ear.

Nanao-chan had gone home with Lisa-chan tonight, they hadn't seen each other for a while. He smirked to himself, thinking of sending his PA a teasing text message later about lesbian love. It was immature, but immaturity was one of the joys that came with… well, not being exactly twenty-five anymore.

Jushiro let out a little groan as he opened his eyes, "Sorry, how long was I out for?"

"Only a few minutes," he admitted, stroking his lovers hand gently, "How are you feeling? I'm sorry we had to leave early, but you really didn't look well."

"It's fine," he rubbed his face, "I had a good time. It was lovely catching up with Unohana-san when we're not… seeing each other as doctor and patient. And Soi Fon too, I'm glad she's looking so well."

Shunsui nodded his head, humming softly to himself as he turned to car down the street towards their home. He pulled up on the drive way, about to undo his seat belt and get out, when he felt Jushiro's hand on his.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, lowering his voice and turning to look at his partner.

To his great surprise, Jushiro's eyes were filled with tears, the pale hand tightened ever so slightly, "Hey," he whispered, keeping his voice low, "You don't have too… struggle with this, Shunsui…"

His heart began to beat faster in his chest, "What are you talking about?"

"You've never lost anyone," he murmured, "Your parents are still alive, you never knew your grandparents… I don't think old man Yamamoto is ever going to die… You can't deal with this, and it's hurting you."

Shunsui sat up more, trying to find his voice; he reached out to touch Jushiro's shoulder, "Hey, why are you saying this to me? We've talked about this before… I thought…"

The white haired man shook his head, "You've got so much life left in you, Shunsui. Why waste all that time torturing yourself over me? You don't have to do this anymore," his voice was shaking, his head bowed, "I love you too much to watch you waste away with me."

Shunsui took a deep breath, pulling the slimmer man to his chest, his hands lost in the smooth white waves, "You remember when we were kids? Everyone used to comment on how we were always together, right? Nothing's changed, Jushiro," he mumbled, nuzzling his face against the cold forehead, "You were always too damn noble for your own good. You can even say you'll leave me, but I wouldn't change this for the world. There's nobody else I'd want…"

"But-!"

"There's nothing you can say. I'll always be here," he took Jushiro's hand and placed it on his chest, his warm palm over the others, "Even after you…" his voice shook a little, and he pulled his lover near to him, closing his eyes, his arms tightly wrapped around his body.

And Jushiro began to cry, for the first time in a very long time. Sometimes things come out a lot worse when you bottle them behind a smile for too long.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry for the long wait of no chapters, guys! Getting sorted out for university is harder than it looks on TV!

Chapter Five  
by Rob

Sosuke Aizen was a man who'd learnt not only to see beneath the surface of things, but also to see beneath even that. He was a man who could see the shadows that even the shadows cast, the dreams that dreams dreamt and that world hidden in the reflection of the water's surface. Life was full of hard lessons but learning to remain ever vigilant, ever observant, was one lesson that came easy to Aizen. His hardest had been learning to know his enemies better than they knew themselves, but – in time – that too was a lesson well learnt. It was of course impossible to know everything, but by understanding those around you better than they understood themselves, to expect the unexpected in every way, that was the closest one could get to omniscience.

To know how someone would think, feel, react and perceive an event was to fully comprehend their very being. It meant that they were effectively pieces on a chessboard, beings under your control, under which you knew how they would move and how that would best serve you. Those master manipulators like Byakuya-san were always able to understand how their pieces moved, always understood that even the pawn itself could prove to be the vital piece of the puzzle, but by merely planning one move ahead one left oneself . . . open to unexpected attacks. Aizen was not on the level of Byakuya, he was on level with the likes of Urahara, he was able to plan his moves three or more paces ahead, knowing how to move his men in order to win the game. He knew unlike others to treasure even the pawns and to sacrifice pieces when necessary, he also knew to take things slow as time really was rarely of an essence.

What was life if not a game? What were people if not merely pieces on a board? Life was a game that Aizen wished to win and to do that he had to use all the pieces on the board to his best advantage, he would openly admit to manipulation and deceit but never to those whom were still wrapped in his web of lies, to those he was merely the mild-mannered bookworm, never the cold-hearted mastermind.

No one was ever born on top, it was a place one must earn and always threatened by those below, however Aizen had filled that place on top only a few years ago with the creation of his new businesses, and now he had merely to defend his place from would-be usurpers. It was a well-known fact that in establishing his businesses he'd in a sense declared 'war' on a few others, even using his newfound powers to undermine any rivals that he had. Originally he'd been nothing but a law student working under Shinji Hirako, he worked his way from high school to university and soon had a Masters in both law and business, from there he'd went on to making new acquaintances and clever investments. It hadn't been long before he'd set up the Arrancar Corp. in which he had a hand in law, pharmaceuticals, detective agencies and even a technological department.

However it hadn't been all good and he'd been forced on a few occasions to file lawsuits against competitors who stood in his way, Shinji being one of them. To his knowledge the little blonde still despised him and was fighting off ill rumours to this day, always bitching about Aizen and court costs as if he was able to do something about it. It was like Aizen said however; sometimes sacrifices were necessary. Shinji was a smart man and always knew Aizen would one day betray him, but his distrust for Aizen forced the two at arm's length and meant that Shinji never saw what hit him. He'd expected the obvious, but his distrust meant he never truly got to know Aizen for whom he was, he never learnt that Aizen despised the obvious and clung to the intricacies that made life so interesting, it meant that Shinji never could appreciate Aizen's subtlety. That was the way the world worked though and Shinji had no right to complain. Aizen was a man who was a master of psychology, and it was because of that he could see the inner working of the blonde's brain and use him as a pawn in his game . . .

In fact there was only one mind Aizen could not understand: Gin's.

Gin was a man who defied all logic. Aizen had first met Ichimaru when he was still a child of eleven-years-old; it had been a bland, ordinary day until he spotted the child out of school, wandering about the back alleys of the Karakura. At first he'd merely overlooked Gin, finding him interesting for his albino-like qualities but ultimately not special enough to hold an interest for long. He was after all nothing but a street-urchin ditching school and perhaps running away from home. Aizen's eyes lingered upon him for a short while, but it wasn't until Gin walked that thin and dangerous line into the town's red light district that Aizen grew wary, and when he saw the boy forcefully dragged into an alley he ran into action. He may not have been a caring man but there were some things even his cold heart could not ignore.

He ran to the boy's aid, knocking down passers-by in the process, ignoring the looks he received or how late he'd be back for class, all he cared about was sparing the child's life or innocence. The moment he turned and set foot in the alleyway he was shocked into stillness. Lying on the floor was the body of a grown man, twitching and jerking like he was receiving an electric shock. A pool of blood had grown from around his throat as he set forth such awful gurgling, spluttering noises Aizen could not even begin to describe . . . He was taking a dying breath, his eyes glassy and unseeing, and meanwhile Gin just stood there, unmoving. His skin looked so white that the specks of red blood on his cheek seemed all the sharper, and his bright, fox-like smile seemed all the more eerie as he held that bloody knife. The child's only words were 'He'd threatened me with a knife, can't have that now, can we?' to which Aizen stood completely speechless.

Needless to say he'd covered up the crime and took the time to get to know the child. It seemed Gin had came from a physically abusive foster home, although Aizen was relieved that there was no sexual abuse or neglect involved, and as a result of his home life the boy had taken to missing school and wandering the streets.

Aizen – in a fit of what seemed madness – became a mentor to the child, visiting him regularly and over time becoming a father figure to him, even convincing him to carry on with his schooling and education. It wasn't a surprise then that with Aizen as his only role-model that he developed similar traits, becoming just as manipulative, secretive and emotionally unavailable as his fatherly figure. What did surprise Aizen Sosuke however was that to this very day Gin was a mystery to him. He still had no idea why Gin was in care and he never knew what the younger man felt or wanted, and frankly he didn't quite trust his friend either. Despite this Gin seemed to know Aizen perfectly well, always knowing how he felt, what he desired and what he was thinking sometimes better than Aizen himself knew, and the very fact his pupil had now became the master terrified him. It was part of the reason he still remained so close to Gin even after all this time, he knew well to keep his potential enemies close to him.

So when he had phoned Gin at approximately midnight, the Saturday of Shihoin's party, and asked his pupil and friend to meet him at his house in an hour's time he had foolishly expected his order to be carried out. That was the reason why – as he left the headquarters' office – that he was completely surprised to see Gin standing outside the doors to reception, with that familiar smile upon his lips . . .

Aizen kept his face passive and calm, he refused to give any indication of his surprise lest he give Gin the upper hand, and instead closed the office doors behind him as he walked down the stone steps onto the street.

Gin stood unmoving behind him, cast in complete darkness as he lurked in a corner, he was hidden in a way which was perfect for people watching but unnerving to all those being watched. He shortly began to gracefully descend the steps and began to walk in time with his elder.

It was a bitterly cold night and so Aizen had dressed accordingly with an expensive, black Armani suit with white accessories such as scarf and gloves. Gin meanwhile was dressed in a white yukata, which although fashionable – despite being out of season – must have left him incredibly cold and even open to some hostile or provocative remarks in the city after midnight. He didn't see it fit to question his friend however, not considering how he had called him out at such a time, it was not his right to. Instead he kept up a brusque and light pace, keeping a subtle smirk on his lips as he watched Gin with amusement, admiring the way he could look graceful, jovial and nonplussed even at such a time of night in such an area.

"Ya know, I could hear ya in the main office." Gin said cheerfully, pretending not to notice the plain-clothed bodyguards that walked no more than twenty feet away from them at all times. "Ya talk to all your clients like that?"

Aizen gave a soft little smirk, the corner of his mouth perking up slightly as his eyes sharpened considerably. He removed his glasses and pushed a hand through his brown locks, smoothing them out so that only one stray lock fell over his features, then turned his head so that his chin was slightly out and his gaze fixed at an unknown spot up ahead.

"Were you eavesdropping again, Gin?"

"Nah, of course not! I wouldn't dream of eavesdropping on you, Aizen-sama."

He said that so casually that many other men would have been inclined to believe him, however Aizen had trained himself to detect that very subtle hint of sarcasm that laid on his friend's lips, that one that spoke of mockery and contempt. It seemed always with Gin what he said and what he meant were always two entirely different things, and right now he seemed to be saying 'if you were foolish enough to get caught then don't complain about the consequences'. What made Aizen irk most of all was that honorific – 'sama' – added onto his family name, that honorific which always sounded so insincere on Gin's lips.

He didn't fool himself; of course Gin was being insincere in his respect, that much was after all obvious. He had heard from Kaname that he personally believed Gin to be disingenuous, and apparently even Grimmjow's 'respect' was a complete farce if one heard the things he said away from his boss's ears, but as long as the two did what he paid them to do and showed him respect to his face then he didn't care what they said behind his back.

"Then may I ask how you managed to overhear my conversation with my client?" He said softly, almost drawling his words as they walked cheerfully along.

"Ah, I wasn't at home when ya called, I was over in Rangiku's bar, she's got a theme night on as ya can tell."

Gin lifted his arms and bowed his head slightly in a mock pose, a weak smile lay on his lips but his eyes were soft and relaxed, showing that he was content and happy with the situation at hand. Aizen was forced to note at once the almost feminine style of the yukata, like most of Gin's clothes the style was plain and not the least bit fussy, however – again like most of Gin's clothes – it covered his entire body save a small expanse of chest, and covered his arms and hands entirely. It worried Aizen somewhat because the style only accentuated Gin's thin frame, and his friend was incredibly thin at the best of times . . .

"Rangiku's not too far from here, ya know?" Gin answered brightly, as he regained his pace with Aizen. "Thought I'd do ya a favour and meet ya at your work. Nice, ain't I?"

"Indeed, you are, so nice that I am – in fact – loath to mention your birthday present to Kaname. Whilst it is true I cannot read Braille I am told your book choice was not at all appropriate."

"Oh?"

"Yes, Kaname has a strong affection for Komamura-san and although he is more muscular than most, along with his excess hair and masculinity, I am told a book on 'dog-rearing' has deeply upset him. I believe some pranks go too far, Gin."

"Oh, I must have picked it up by mistake, ya know me, Aizen-sama."

They turned a corner and walked along the street casually, the moon was just visible behind a high-rise hotel and the stars were hidden behind a blanket of black night and artificial light below. The air was crisp, cold and with each breath a cold mist expelled from their mouths; the noise of the town refused to die down, the cars seemed to be at a standstill despite the ungodly hour and people were going in and out of clubs and pubs, acting as if reliving their teenage years.

Beside him Gin was striding along as if without a care in the world. There was of course a slight pull in his lips and a paleness to his cheeks as he looked somewhat worried about his gift to Tousen, but if Aizen had to guess he would have said it was a false display of guilt. Although Gin and Kaname were well acquainted and were good friends the two were prone to bouts of intense rivalry and dislike. Gin tended to act out some of his crueller pranks upon Kaname, and Kaname often retaliated in unexpected ways, more often than not that meant general indifference that drove Gin insane. This latest little ordeal was nothing unusual, but it was something Aizen disliked, after all he liked his men to act as a unit and with trust, bickering and fighting would be bad for morale, no matter how soon this incident would blow over it'd leave a mark on their trust for one another.

Aizen looked at Gin through the corner of his eyes and then cast his gaze ahead again, he didn't want to chastise his friend at a moment like this because he had a favour to ask of him, but Gin was smart and his silence would perhaps alert him to the favour to come. He wanted to chastise him just to keep Gin on his toes, prove that he was not as predictable as his friend seemed to think, but he would still need to ask a favour afterwards and his chastisement would of course then seem false, letting Gin know that his assessment of him was indeed correct.

"Gin, I have a request of you. I am afraid I was forced to call you out in person for it is a matter too sensitive to discuss on the telephone, thus I am required to talk to you face-to-face." He looked at Gin and saw that incessant smile gone, his eyes were somewhat frowning and his mouth was pouting, he seemed intrigued which was exactly the reaction he was hoping for. "Recently some allegations have been made in the Espada Law Firm, and I find myself needing to ask for your advice. I understand you are a close acquaintance with Luppi. How would you judge his character?"

"Luppi-san? He's great, he's the only one of the Arrancar Corporation who talks to me and ain't afraid of me, he always keeps me company when I have work over there. If you were to let him go I'd miss him. Why do ya ask?"

"Luppi came to me yesterday stating he had overheard a conversation between Jeagerjaques and a young boy in the office, the boy was in school uniform and had threatened to come to me with a confession that Grimmjow had been harassing him. Luppi – along with several others – then saw Grimmjow and the boy in the cafeteria later on. Luppi claims that Grimmjow has sexually assaulted the boy and somehow has convinced him to keep quiet about the ordeal."

"Really? Nah, I don't believe it."

Aizen frowned.

He had taken a risk going to Gin with this problem, as loyal as his friend was there was always the chance he would go to Kaname with this problem, and should that happen Kaname would likely take the matter into his own hands. He couldn't afford to lose any of the defence attorneys working for him, each one was valuable and helped to oversee his other business aspects, and should one side of his business fail then the others would no doubt suffer also. He had no personal preference to either Grimmjow or Luppi, but the evidence pointed to Luppi's accusations being correct, in fact the security tapes had even showed a redheaded youth entering the building, conversing angrily with Grimmjow and then eating with him in the cafeteria. He knew from experience however he couldn't take this further without solid proof, and for a clearer idea he had came to Gin, after all Gin knew the Arrancars better than anyone, perhaps even better than Aizen himself.

When Aizen had first started the law firm he had employed a wide variety of men and women, and when he opened other businesses he had employed again even more from all over the globe. This clash of cultures and people meant problems often arose, sometimes fights and sometimes claims of bullying or harassment, in which case Aizen was forced to hold meetings and then seminars, and for these seminars and lectures he often hired Gin for he was the only one with enough patience to teach anger management, harassment courses or assertive training. If the problems persisted or were serious enough then the main perpetrators would face Kaname, the man in charge of discipline within Arrancar Corps. Out of all his departments and businesses it was his law firm that caused the most trouble, and so Gin and Kaname often found themselves run ragged with work – not that Gin minded, the extra money on top of his teacher's wages were most welcome.

They turned another corner and crossed a road, lucky to find the light on to 'go' as they reached it. Aizen carried on speaking as they walked through the crowds; "You teach at Karakura High, have you ever crossed a student by the name of Ichigo Kurosaki? Luppi used our detective agency to find out the student's name and school, I believe he is genuinely concerned over the matter."

"Huh? Kurosaki-kun?" Gin taught a lot of kids over the years but there was only a few that really stood out, and a redheaded brat in a Japanese school with anger problems was one of them, "Yeah, I teach him history along with Izuru, nice kid but a little odd. He does well at history though, other teachers got no complaints either."

"Does he seem the sort to match Luppi's story?"

"I don't know," Gin said, giving it serious thought, "Come to think of it he hates displays of affection and people touching him, he often fights Abarai-kun because he gets too close to him. Could be a sign of abuse, ya know? Ichigo's a tough kid, but not strong enough to win Grimmjow-san in a fight . . ."

Aizen considered this seriously for a moment. It was true indeed Grimmjow had a reputation for street crime and violence growing up, but he had no actual criminal record and was insanely smart at law, Aizen had been willing to overlook his anger issues and take him on once he'd gotten qualified. He wasn't prepared to drop his services just yet, but he wasn't stupid, everyone had seen the huge scar on his chest that he'd worn with pride, claiming he'd gotten it from a 'hot-headed strawberry', and if the aforementioned strawberry was indeed the same Kurosaki in question it did not make Grimmjow's case look good. In fact it added to his motivation for sexual assault against the boy, and an investigation would have to be led into the matter, maybe even involving the police.

"You are not letting your bias cloud your judgement?" Aizen asked softly, "I know you have a dislike for Jeagerjaques."

"I'm just saying what I know, Aizen-sama. I know Luppi had it bad for Grimmjow and they broke up, but I can't see him making up these kinds of lies. He did prank call Grimmjow thirty times in half-an-hour though, but that's kind of like obsessive and creepy, not vindictive. Luppi's a nice guy, I like him, but sorry to say his story seems to fit, ya going to have to talk to Grimmjow directly. I can't see why Luppi would lie to ya, and ya got the pair on security tape, and Kurosaki-kun's got the symptoms . . . It's also well known he gave Grimmjow that scar too."

"Very well. I will deal with the matter accordingly."

Gin gave a soft nod and raised a hand to his lips, thinking hard for a moment about the situation at hand. He didn't like Grimmjow at all but Kaname liked the guy even less, if it came down to a disciplinary meeting with Kaname then Grimmjow was liable to lose an arm and a leg.

It was harsh but not if he deserved it, and that was the thing, but Gin wasn't sure he did deserve it. The matter would obviously need looking into but for the life of him he just couldn't picture Grimmjow as a sexually aggressive guy, if anything he was like Zaraki-san and loved a decent fight but preferred his sexual partners to be willing, someone who fought back was totally off the menu like they should be. He could talk to Ichigo about it on Monday morning of course, pull him aside out of class and discuss the rumours with him, but he'd have to be careful not to name names. The whole thing was very serious; he'd have to be careful how he'd address the matter.

"I for one do not however believe the matter to be so simple," Aizen carried on, "Grimmjow is currently on a rather low wage as he goes through his two-year training, he is looking most forward to his promotion next year and already had plans for a new apartment, not only that but he has a younger sister to look after. I believe their two cousins are currently raising her, but the fact remains a large chunk of his pay cheque goes to Nel. I find it unacceptable to believe he would risk it all for a quick roll in the hay with a schoolboy."

"A schoolboy who's of legal age," Gin added quickly.

Aizen smirked.

He knew of course of Gin's infatuation with his pupil, Kira Izuru, and he knew of the legal difficulties such relationships faced, and despite how his friend had sworn not to pursue a relationship such comments made him think otherwise. Of course if Gin were anyone else he could legally date Kira, but the fact of the matter was he wasn't anybody else, he was the boy's teacher. They could of course wait until Kira was eighteen and in university, but somehow he doubted Gin could wait that long, and judging from the rumours he'd heard about 'extra tutoring' and 'preferential treatment' he judged that to be the case. It was not his place to get involved but at the very least he had a duty to his friend to warn him.

They crossed by a small, crowded café on the way down the street and Aizen tried to hold back a moan of annoyance as teen idol J-Pop blasted into his ears, through the window he could see all sorts of teenagers and young adults dancing along. The streets of Karakura were indeed frightening at night, he could only be thankful that his next and final client of the night was not too far away, it meant he could retreat from his final meeting into the safety of his own home and rest for tomorrow's trials. He would need to discuss matters with both Grimmjow and Luppi, and judging by how things went even need to involved Kaname. It would be a very stressful day. It would only be made worse with Grimmjow using his baby sister for sympathy and to guilt Aizen, and by no doubt a call from Gin at some point discussing something incredibly foolish he'd done with Kira. Aizen had a heart but he lacked empathy, especially with certain individuals on busy workdays.

"If you are trying to hint that your growing relationship with Kira-san is acceptable," Aizen said coldly and firmly, "then I must inform you that it is not. If this were to go to court I could help you avoid jail time and fines, but you would be unable to teach again, and would be working full-time for me to pay me back for my legal skills. I do not recommend you risk a scandal by seeing this boy, Gin."

"Aw, why not? He's cute!" Gin tilted his head to one side and smiled brightly, "When you lean right into him he thinks you're going to kiss him and his legs start shaking, he even stutters! He even does all my work for me when I ask, I think he likes me, and when he has a drink he goes all red and forgets about personal space! He really lets go when he drinks, ya know?"

"I do not care, Gin. You will remember how your last romantic liaison ended? It is clear you cannot judge who is right for you as far as relationships are concerned."

"No fair!" Gin pouted. "If you're referring to Tousen-san at the New Year's party, we were both drunk and ya throw boring parties, in fact ya should blame Stark who spiked the punch. It's not like I've ever been with anyone else anyway, and he was only a one-night-stand. "

He folded his arms and stared off across the busy main road at the flashing lights of a nightclub, there was a steady stream of people heading inside and it was a welcome distraction as they walked.

He remembered that party pretty well; all the Arrancar employees of importance were there along with a few associates of Aizen and Kaname's, Gin had been twenty-one at the time and still training to be a teacher, after a rough term getting to know the students and studying hard himself it'd been a nice break to have a big party. He remembered at some point drinking far too much, he could remember Kaname flirting with Komamura-san and then at some point he'd ended up in Aizen-sama's office with Tousen-san. He hadn't regretted losing his virginity to Tousen at all, but he had regretted the stains left on Aizen's desk, as far as he remembered they'd blamed a low-ranked employee and tried not to look too guilty when they got fired the next day. Aizen eventually found out they'd gotten together, but luckily he'd still to this day yet to find out where they'd done it.

"Ya know . . ." Gin mumbled, "not that I have anything to compare it too, but Tousen's pretty good for a blind guy."

"Thank you for that mental image," Aizen replied coldly.

They both stopped at the edge of the pavement. Rangiku's bar was directly to their left where – should Gin wish it – he could return to his party, where hopefully he'd avoid the alcohol and any colleagues . . . but Gin's house wasn't too far away either, only twenty minute by foot, so his friend's direction was decided regardless. His client however was waiting in a building to their right, less than five minutes away in what was officially the 'upmarket' part of town. It would not make sense to continue walking together, so as informative as their talk was it was time for them to finish and part ways.

"I trust you will join me for dinner today at five, Gin?"

"I'd love to, but I promised Zaraki-san I'd baby-sit for him, I'm hoping I can get Izuru-kun to join me," Gin said cheerfully, making Aizen wonder if he was merely making excuses or actually sincere, "Sorry, but I can meet you and Tousen-san for tea if you like, about three?"

"I am afraid I have a meeting then. Eight?"

"Nah, can't do that! I promised to tutor Izuru-kun some more, and I'm hoping he'll let me stay over until Monday, ya know?" Gin smirked, "Besides, as of twenty minutes ago it's now Sunday, technically you've had me for two days, you should let other people enjoy my company. I didn't know you were so greedy, Aizen-sama."

"Gin."

"Don't worry! I'll make sure I get Izuru-kun to school on time."

Aizen gave a smile reminiscent of the ones he so often gave during the day, one that seemed so innocent and calm, but one that hid the turmoil of his heart. He truly worried about Gin but it was impossible to know what the man felt, everything about him was so secret and hidden, it didn't matter what the situation was at hand he rarely ever showed any sign of emotion. Very rarely did one see Gin look upset or angry, and it was virtually impossible even then to get him to say what he felt or needed, so to see him engaging in such dangerous activities – although very in character for him – was still somewhat worrying.

He cast a sad gaze across the town to his client's building and tried to remember a carefree time in his life, and yet the sad thing was he couldn't, he could not remember one single carefree memory. It seemed his whole life was cast in mind games and illusions, playing with other people and toying with them for his own benefit, and at times he wondered if he was even human anymore, if he could feel the things other people felt. Was it any wonder Gin was like he was, raised by a man who could no longer feel empathy or long for love? He could warn Gin all he could, but he knew the younger man would regardless do as he wanted anyway.

"Take care, Gin." He said, walking away slowly.

"I will do, Aizen-sama," Came the strong reply, "Bye, Bye!"

* * *

If there was one thing Kisuke regretted about family life it was definitely the early nights . . .

When they'd first fostered Renji-kun he was nine-years-old, and when they officially adopted him along with Jinta and Ururu a year later he was ten, with his two siblings four and three respectively. It had meant Kisuke and his husband had gotten to skip the waking up in the middle of the night for feedings, forgo the nightly toilet trips and enjoy the wonders of children who slept throughout the night and who were already toilet trained. The only trouble they ever really had from the kids was Renji and Jinta's intense rivalry, and the situation between the two brothers was only made worse by their biological relation and family background; Renji being born out of wedlock whilst Jinta was born within. Yet despite being biologically full-blooded siblings the moment they'd been born they'd both been thrown into foster care, and it seemed that Jinta was pretty effected by that judging by his anger issues.

Still, although the three kids were admittedly a handful Kisuke wouldn't have traded them for the world. He knew his friends often joked that he'd only adopted them for the free manual labour, but he really did love the little brats, he loved teaching them and training them, he loved annoying them and disciplining them, in short he loved everything about being a parent, except those damned early nights.

After all being a parent meant being unable to go out as much or even at all at times; dinners had to be cooked, discipline had to be carried out, injuries had to be tended to, and it wasn't as though they could party all night with a teenager and two pre-teens. It was a shame of course because Yoruichi's parties were amazing, but they couldn't take the children with them when they'd be out so late and they also couldn't expect Renji to baby-sit for so long, so it meant having to leave around midnight to get back home. Of course Yoruichi understood, she always did, but Kisuke missed having those late nights, heavy drinking sessions and wild parties, hell he was even starting to miss the mind-shattering hangovers and humiliating memories of the dreaded 'night before'. Still, on the bright side at least it meant that Tessai and himself were able to get back early enough to enjoy some 'alone time', and because they could only consume so-much alcohol it meant they were drunk enough to be needy but sober enough to enjoy it. It was like a perfect balance.

The moment they'd gotten home Kisuke had made sure the shop was securely locked up whilst Tessai saw to the kids, then they'd left for the bedroom for some well needed 'grow up, alone time'. It was the best time of the day in Kisuke's opinion, nothing could be better than taking or being taken and waking up with a huge-ass smile, and right now Kisuke was going to do his damned best to recreate that feeling.

He stood silently in the corner of their bedroom with a subtle smirk, the corner of lips pulled up in a sort of half-smile as he undid his shirt and loosened his trousers. His shoes were in the entranceway with everyone else's, his jacket was lost somewhere on the shop floor and his tie was lost forever in the winds of nowhere. He hated formal dress, he really did, but the bright side was getting to see his husband sitting on the bed undressing. Tessai looked hot as hell in those formal clothes, he really did, but to see him slowly stripping item by item as he prepared for bed was perhaps the sexiest thing that Urahara Kisuke could ever imagine. He loved the way that Tessai effortlessly made the whole thing look like a strip-show, each item of clothing he removed was done so slowly it was almost agonising, an inch of skin coming on show at a time as if to tease Kisuke, make him cry out for more knowing what the rest of that skin would look like.

Tessai was a tall man, exceptionally so, and his large, muscular frame made it seem like he was dominating the bed and its surroundings, and the more of that muscled flesh that came on show the more Kisuke had to swallow hard, thinking about how it felt to be completely dominated by that powerful, godlike body. They never really stuck to one position but some nights – like tonight – Kisuke would have a very clear preference, he'd just feel that thrill and desire which came with being completely dominated, with being totally submissive to someone else's will, and to be held down as that strong body drove into him was a thrill like no other.

The only downside was that with kids sleeping not too far away they had to keep their voices down, which meant Kisuke screaming out behind a gag or biting hard into Tessai's shoulder, but luckily for him Tessai seemed to get a thrill from hearing his stifled moans, his held back screams and faces of frustration as he tried not to cry out. It seemed Tessai really got a turn-on from seeing his lover at the brink of insanity that the overriding pleasure brought, knowing that he was so desperate for more he craved that vocal ability to express himself, and to see him on the brink of losing all self-control was completely erotic. Kisuke wasn't ever a loud man or even one that ever lost his composure, so to see him let go in bed was enough to make even the strongest of men melt into a pool of sex hormones. It reminded Tessai of when they were teenagers, of when Kisuke was this mild-mannered, nervous, shy man who even a child like Hiyori could push around, and to feel that powerful edge that he was stronger than Urahara . . . it was a rush that he couldn't quite express.

Kisuke licked his lips as he saw his lover now completely bare-chested, lifting himself just slightly enough to slide down his trousers and reveal his lower half to him, it was a sight Kisuke never got tired of, but as so many others pointed out to him he could be a little perverted at times . . . Still, it had been a nice night and to see Tessai now sitting naked on their marital bed, stretching in such a provocative manner . . . Why, Kisuke was simply a lowly-but-handsome shopkeeper with an extensive background in medical research, how could he possibly have the self-control to resist such a tempting sight? Why, could anyone blame him for giving in to temptation?

Slowly he sauntered over to his husband's side, swaying his hips seductively as he went, his own trousers now dangerously low on his hips as that golden-brown trail down to his groin started to come on show. He noticed Tessai rummaging around their bedside table for his sleepwear, but as he dropped to his knees in front of his lover Tessai stopped and turned his full attention onto Urahara.

Kisuke looked up with his dark blue eyes and smirked at the sight of Tessai. His cheeks were dark red with arousal and embarrassment, his eyes somewhat dilated behind his glasses, and his mouth partially open in shock under that heavy moustache. It didn't matter how many times they'd made love softly, fucked hard and fast or even just watched each other dreamily as they wandered to and from the bathroom naked, Tessai always looked like the blushing, virgin bride about to be taken for the first time . . . and Kisuke loved that look. Sometimes Tessai would stutter nervously or refer to him as 'boss' like they were still on the shop floor, other times he'd try and hide his arousal much to Kisuke's amusement, but no matter what he did it just made him look even hotter. Of course Kisuke preferred the times when he was so hot, horny and stuck in disciplinarian mode that nothing would faze him, but his blushing moments were still equally as arousing.

"Ki-Kisuke!" Tessai stuttered, watching as his lover licked his lips provocatively, "Renji-kun and Jinta-kun aren't even asleep yet!"

"So? Just make sure to be quiet."

"B-But what if they start fighting, or break something, or cause trouble?"

"Then we'll deal with it in the morning."

Truthfully Urahara was a little worried himself, when they'd came home they'd found Renji asleep on the shop floor with Jinta teasing Ururu incessantly, it wasn't exactly anything new but Tessai's handling of the situation was. Renji's punishment was working fine but Jinta obviously needed discipline of his own, what with bullying his sister and running out without permission at night to see his friends, so Tessai – in his usual way – decided to teach his troublesome son a lesson. Now Tessai usually dealt with Jinta's discipline but today it seemed he'd wanted to be a little hard and extra stern, he'd wanted to really teach Jinta a lesson considering how running out without an adult knowing was very dangerous, and so – in a classic maternal moment – he'd handed over Jinta's punishment to Renji.

Yeah, Kisuke didn't understand either at first, but as Tessai explained older siblings already had their fair share of punishments and usually found their younger siblings a source of utmost pain, and so when given the chance they'd deal them the worst punishment ever as a form of revenge. Given Renji and Jinta's already established relationship they could be sure Jinta would be severely punished, which was probably a good thing, but that said Urahara didn't want to wake up and discover his youngest son had died during some sort of slave labour gig.

"Very well, Kisuke," Tessai relented, "but be sure to keep your voice down."

"Not a problem," he replied arrogantly.

He gently pushed apart his lover's legs and crawled forward between them, more than willing to help prepare Tessai for his role to come. He loved how intimate this position was, how he could be staring down Tessai at his most vulnerable point and still feel completely submissive, he was after all on his knees between his husband's legs with that large, strong hand now stroking his head and despite everything he knew that he wasn't the one in control, not really. He loved that feeling of complete helplessness, with those fingers running through his soft, blonde-brown hair and massaging his scalp, gently guiding him downwards, silently commanding him to take that length into his mouth. He loved feeling so exposed despite being the one clothed, and most of all he loved Tessai.

It always amazed him how easily his larger lover found it to become aroused, even after all these years, even now they'd not even begun and yet that thick member inches before his lips was beginning to rise and strain. It was long even in its limp state, and now with blood rushing below it was starting to look like a monster, and as Kisuke breathed hot and heavy onto it the thing only grew more.

He teasingly pushed out his tongue and licked a slow, long trail from the base of the penis to the tip of its head, making sure to follow the now pulsing vein and dip into the slit for a taste of the beading pre-come. His hands braced themselves upon Tessai's chiselled, muscled thighs as he slowly delivered wet kisses up and down his member, occasionally going low enough to place his lips on the man's large balls. Above him he could hear his lover gasping loudly and feel those hands tightening in his hair, the never gripped so hand as to hurt him but always hard enough to remind him of his lover's power and strength, of his desire and lust. When he took one of those heavy balls fully into his mouth he felt Tessai hiss loudly and buck upwards, making Kisuke smirk and let go, before licking quickly several times up his length, almost like an eager kid licking an ice lolly.

The sounds Tessai made were deeply erotic. His lover was always the silent type and even in bed he wasn't much of a moaner or screamer, instead when he came it was silent but always with hands clenching the sheets so hard they ripped, or nails scratching cuts down Kisuke's back, or once even coming so hard he passed out and banged his head on the headboard. It was amazing to see the power he had over his lover, and to hear those gasping breaths and feel those bucking hips made his own arousal grow twofold.

Without warning to Tessai he quickly opened his mouth wide and took the whole length in at once. Immediately his partner thrust upwards and forced Kisuke to hold his hips down lest his choke. Whilst he'd learnt over the years the art of deep-throating Tessai was still a very large man, if he bucked too much it could force Kisuke to gag. He made sure to breathe deeply, to swallow continuously to not only trick his gag-reflex but to provide extra pleasure to Tessai, and as that thick length slipped in and out of his mouth he even began to hum Tessai's favourite songs for some added vibration. It seemed either he was really good at oral activities or that Tessai had one too many glasses of wine, because soon enough he could taste the hot, salty tears of pre-come rapidly falling from that tip onto his tongue, and he could feel those heavy balls tightening in his left hand as he fondled them. He began to bob his head faster now, relishing in the sounds of both Tessai's heavy breath and his own slurping as he sucked hard and fast, his cheeks hollowing out . . .

"Oh, Kisuke . . ."

Kisuke smiled inside, readying himself for the burst of come that was surely about to spring forth, and loving the moment, knowing his own skills had forced his partner to the brink of ecstasy and beyond. They'd have to wait ten or twenty minutes for Tessai to be able to go again, but in the meantime he'd return the favour and then they'd be able to get to the main act.

Yet before Tessai had a chance to come there came a deafening scream . . .

At once Tessai jumped up at the sound and knocked Urahara back, making him gag heavily as that mushroom head struck the back of his throat, causing his reflex to kick in and make him choke somewhat. Tessai however seemed to ignore him and was right away pulling on a pair of sleeping-bottoms and a dressing-gown that had been lying on the floor, before he had a chance to head out of their bedroom door they heard another scream – this time Urahara identified it as Jinta's – and right away he was on his feet with his husband, racing out from their bedroom and down the corridor into Jinta's bedroom.

Kisuke had honestly never felt more frightened than he had in that very moment; suddenly all thoughts of lust had gone from his mind and his only concern was making sure his son was safe.

It was an odd feeling as he'd always been the harsh parent and the strict one, the indifferent father who as long as his children were still breathing couldn't care less about most other things, yet then and there he felt nothing but terror. His heart was pounding in his chest and his mind was blurred with visions of worst-case scenarios, true he was an expert at martial arts and handling weapons but what if someone had already hurt Jinta, or what if this wasn't something he could fight or make go away? Damn it, what had fatherhood done to him? He was in the middle of a sex session and he'd stopped -! That was the first time in his life he'd ever turned away from sex, and this feeling of fright was far from a nice one. Hadn't he taught all three children how to fight though, shouldn't any one of them be able to defend themselves against attack? What the hell had happened?

When they finally reached the room they saw the paper door slid wide open, revealing a pitch-black interior with a TV running in the far corner, the images sending white flashes of light inconsistently about the room with the sound echoing about. Renji stood to the left of the door looking suspiciously guilty and terrified, meanwhile Ururu stood to the right looking terribly upset and also guilty. Kisuke's alarm only grew when he still couldn't see his son. Where was he? What the hell had these two brats done to him?

He was tempted to call out and shout for him but it wouldn't do much good. Renji had learnt long ago to answer back to Urahara, and Ururu always turned to him first for support and help, but there was only one person who Jinta ever responded to . . .

"Jinta-dono!" Tessai called out. "Come on out! Jinta-dono!"

Right away from he corner of the room a blanket was thrown down and a short, redheaded boy came hurtling out of the room right into Tessai. The older man knelt down at once and Jinta flung himself into his father's arms, clutching him tightly and shivering like a leaf in the wind, his eyes were scrunched shut and he was so pale that Urahara was forced to reach down and feel his forehead, worried in case the boy was running a fever. The moment his skin touched Jinta's though the boy screamed out and seemed to try and bury himself into Tessai's chest. Well, this was certainly unexpected . . .

"What the hell happened, Renji?" Kisuke asked, "Is Jinta okay?"

Renji merely began to gape like a fish and turn to Ururu for support, who in turn merely shrugged and clenched tightly on her teddy bear for the innocent 'I didn't do anything' look. Ururu was still dressed in her cute, pink pyjamas and Renji was in a white, sleeping yukata with his hair in a loose plait ready for sleep, if Kisuke were to judge by appearances he would have thought them both innocent to anything that had gone on, but he knew better. Whatever had happened these two were guilty as sin itself.

"Well?"

"Ah – well – you see," Renji began with a stutter, "Tessai-Otousan said that it was up to me to punish Jinta, so Ururu and I decided to come up with a super good punishment, you know, to make him behave . . ."

"He looks scared half to death. Sure you weren't just trying to get revenge on him, Abarai-kun?"

"N-No! It was – I mean –!"

Kisuke turned and looked down at Ururu who was looking sheepishly at the floor, she seemed to want to be anywhere but there and was even gnawing her lip nervously, the poor girl looked as worried as Renji and considering the seriousness of whatever they'd done she had good reason to be worried. She kicked nervously at the floor and drew in a deep breath before turning large, watering eyes to Urahara and giving the most adorable look he'd ever seen. Jeez, if she thought the puppy-dog eye trick was going to work on him she was sadly mistaken.

"Onii-san's the one who scared Jinta-kun," she said softly and quietly, refusing to make any eye contact now. "He said for punishment that Jinta had to watch The Grudge alone in his room with the lights off, but when the really scary parts came up he closed the door and wouldn't let Jinta-kun out, so Jinta-kun started to scream."

"Oh really?"

He turned to his husband and gave him a severe, narrowed glance as if to say 'see, this is the reason I'm usually the one disciplining them, what kind of idiot gives Renji that level of responsibility?' The look was lost on Tessai however who had a look of murder in his eyes directed at Renji, and was busy hugging and reassuring Jinta who was verging on what could only be called 'manly tears'. The poor kid wouldn't be sleeping for weeks by the look of him, and Lord knew what kind of trauma this would inflict upon him. Hell, even Tessai couldn't sit throughout that film all the way through, what chance did a nine-year-old have?

Still Renji was only fifteen himself, it wasn't like he could be expected to be mature or responsible when he was still developing and learning, not even yet an adult. He was still getting an education at school, still getting trained by himself and Byakuya-san, and still getting into trouble and learning that his actions had consequences, so whilst it had been a nice test to give him it wasn't one that would ever have worked out. Tessai should have known Renji's bitterness to his brother would have come out as an act of revenge, rather than actual discipline, and although he'd been creative and probably what he'd thought was funny his scary prank had backfired with near dangerous results. It would mean of course Kisuke would be having serious words with Renji tomorrow morning, but he couldn't seriously punish the kid because – as adults – he and Tessai should have known better than to give him that responsibility, so all in all it was their own fault. What more could be done?

The only thing now was to slap Renji hard around the head, send them all off to sleep and then get back to 'adult alone time', hoping that this would be the last of all interruptions. Frankly with this level of stress Kisuke was looking forward to being alone with Tessai, it would definitely kill any stress and with his adrenaline running it could perhaps be even more fun, hard and energetic than it would have been. Huh, maybe Renji had even done them a favour.

"Well, it's too late to worry now," Kisuke said with a rather annoyed smile, "I'm very disappointed in you Renji, we'll be having serious talks tomorrow, but considering Tessai was the one who gave you free-reign over punishing Jinta-kun there's not really much I can do . . ." He sighed and shrugged, "Right, everyone off to bed. We'll talk about this in the morning."

At once Jinta yelled out and jumped to his feet, he was still trembling and shaking, his eyes wide with fear and his voice shaking as he spoke; "No way am I going to bed alone! That thing will kill me! I'm sleeping with you two!"

"W-Wait!" Kisuke started, eyes wide in horror, "Why not spend the night with onii-san? It'll be a nice punishment for him seeing as he's the one who scared you."

"No! He'll feed me to that freak! I'm sleeping with you!"

He watched solemnly as Jinta ran from Tessai straight for their bedroom, and inwardly cringed as he heard a thud of the child's body hitting the bed. First of all that meant no more 'alone time' with him and Tessai, which was sheer torture considering how horny he was and how much he was looking forward to a long night of passion, but even worse was that it meant for the entire week or longer they'd be a battle to get Jinta to sleep in his own room, the kid would just be too terrified. Secondly, being so terrified, he'd probably toss and turn all night and when he did finally sleep he'd probably have nightmares, which would mean a sleepless night for Urahara too. This was definitely not what he had in mind when he pictured this evening . . .

With a warm, if insincere smile, he turned to Renji and gave him his full attention, when the redhead gulped loudly and took a step back he merely sharpened his gaze and brightened his smile.

"Well, well, Renji-kun, it looks like I've changed my mind. Seeing as Jinta-kun will be keeping me awake all night, it looks like I'll have plenty of time to think of a fitting punishment for you." He nodded his head in acknowledgement and then turned his back to his son, heading for his bedroom, "I hope you sleep well, after all who knows what I'll come up with by tomorrow. Night, son."

He smiled to himself as he heard Renji groan loudly in exasperation, as far as he was concerned it was the most pleasing sound he'd heard all day . . . he could only hope that whatever punishment he eventually came up with would leave Renji just as frustrated.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six  
by Ray

Izuru glanced down nervously at his hands; cerulean blue eyes darted across the shaking digits. In a flush of embarrassment, he thrust them into the pockets of his thick black jacket.

This was getting beyond a joke!

Ever since he was a child he'd suffered with his confidence; he was painfully shy. In the school nativity play his mother used to joke about how Izuru was easy to spot; he was always the angel trying to hide behind the two either side of him (which was normally a good plan, since he was nearly always stood next to Renji). That was when he was four of five; this awkward shyness had carried through with him all through his childhood, into his teenage years, where he still faced it now.

His father used to say to him, 'Don't worry, Izuru. I was shy when I was young, it'll pass when you get into your early teens.' Now he was fifteen, his parents were beginning to worry.

Although he was nowhere near as bad as he used to be (when he was six he burst into loud, hysterical tears when the teacher told him off), there was definitely a trigger that was making him worse these days. And of course, even Renji, had guessed what that was…

He couldn't even help himself! Ichimaru-Sensei… Gin… made him feel like… Urgh – he couldn't even express it! Whenever he looked at him, behind that frozenly composed smile, or flashing those gorgeous crimson eyes his way, Izuru felt like he was completely naked, not just his body, but he felt as thought Ichimaru-Sensei could see into his very mind and soul. And that was just with his gaze!

When he touched him, even in the smallest way, he couldn't help but blush, he could barely think, or speak properly!

Nobody had ever made him feel like this before… that was why he felt confused and embarrassed. Ichimaru-Sensei was his teacher! How could he be sure if he liked him or not, or was he just being friendly? Izuru's common sense was saying 'Yeah, if he just thought of you as a student, he wouldn't do the things he does'… but his inexperience, his self esteem problem… his whole negative aura would simply sneer, 'What the hell, Izuru? Why would you even think that of him? He's your teacher for Goodness sake!'

He was a teacher – he was in a position of trust. No matter what kind of enigma Ichimaru-Sensei was… Hell, maybe he was just being friendly; maybe he was just teasing him because of how Izuru reacted… It must be funny for a teacher to have a student with a crush on them! Oh how embarrassing!

Today was Sunday… In recent years he'd grown used to the fact he was often alone at the weekend. His parents often worked away from home on business trips, the two of them had left for a week and a half just yesterday. It was easy to get lonely in the house, and run out of things to do.

He'd finished his homework, he'd vacuumed, he'd made the beds, he'd tied up, he'd done to dishes, and he'd polished… Most of the time frantically worrying about Ichimaru-Sensei coming over tonight! Izuru's cheeks flared into a dark pink as his mind washed back to the smooth, long pale fingers on his shoulder, the lingering and ever so slightly sensual touch…

Izuru wished it was colder… anything to hide the heat in his cheeks! He covered his face with his hands again – just because the two of them would be alone together tonight, in his house; Ichimaru-Sensei leaning in, tricking him into thinking he was going to move in for a kiss (something which he knew the other man did on purpose!) – Just because all that would occur tonight, it didn't mean anything else would happen!

It would be perfectly innocent! Perfectly innocent!

"Hey, Izuru, why are you standing in the street talking to yourself?"

Now to say Shuhei Hisagi had a way with words would be little more impressive than saying Renji Abarai had a way with words… None the less, Izuru adored his sempai, off studying at university now, though he was still in the area. Though these days they didn't see each other that often, Izuru was busy with his schoolwork and getting into university, Shuhei was focusing on his studies, and his apprenticeship with Vizard Media.

"Hisagi-sempai, it's been a while," he walked to the other, silently praying to himself that he didn't still look pink from his blushing.

"I know, I'm sorry," the dark-haired man laughed, brushing his fringe out of his eyes and rubbing his cheek, where the familiar 69 tattoo rested. Every one, from Izuru's mother, to their high school teacher, would comment on Shuhei Hisagi's looks, he was casually handsome in a way Izuru envied. "How are things? I feel I haven't seen you three in ages!"

Izuru chuckled, "You haven't missed very much, we've just been busy studying, and drinking at Rangiku's a few nights."

He whistled and pouted, "Aw, well I'll try and make some time soon, I promise. We need to go on a night out, especially if we're going to Matsumoto-san's!" he grinned at him and elbowed Izuru playfully in the side. "So, well, what are you doing round these parts?"

"Oh, I was just on a walk, doing some last minute shopping," he gestured to the small corner shop just in front of them.

It wasn't untrue… he was going to get some snacks and drinks for Ichimaru-Sensei's visit tonight. He felt a little bit like a bride making the preparations for his husband's meal when he returned – Instantly Izuru's cheeks went scarlet – student and teacher! Student and teacher – they were nothing like a husband and wife!

"Wow, Izuru, what are you buying? You're blushing!" the older boy teased, leaning in to poke him playfully in the cheek, "Is there something you aren't telling me? You wouldn't be shopping for condoms, would ya?"

"Sempai!" he snapped, pushing him back a little, trying to calm the colour in his face, "It's not like that!"

Hisagi laughed, "Calm down, you know I'm teasing," he ruffled his hair playfully, drawing the blonde closer and resting like that for a moment, letting out a sigh, "I have missed you, you're so fun to tease!"

Izuru rolled his eyes, "Oh, you're just mean!" he pushed him off again, elbowing him back; "Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought university students only ate fast food!"

"Oh, I'm here with…" His voice went quiet a little as the shop door opened. A tall muscular man came outside, and instantly began making his way towards them. Izuru caught sight of a shiny silver hoop in his eyebrow, and short silvery hair, he had intense dark eyes, which cast over him intimidating. He looked… older than thirty, but overall, his age seemed almost impossible to place.

The man was carrying a plastic bag with what appeared to be popcorn and a few other things; he walked to Hisagi-sempai's side, and rested a hand on his back, his fingers curling firmly at his waist.

"Shuhei," he whispered a little, casting his eyes suspiciously at Izuru, who instantly blushed and looked away. "Who's your little friend?"

From the way they were acting, he could only guess that the two of them were… lovers – to think his sempai would be doing such things!

Hisagi-sempai turned his head so he could see the two of them, raising a hand to introduce them, "This is Izuru Kira-kun," he pointed to the blonde, lowering his voice as he said, "There's no need for that look, we're childhood friends," he looked back at Izuru, "This man here is Kensei Muguruma-san," he said the name slowly, emphasising each syllable, like every one was precious.

The larger man seemed to calm himself a little, and offered Izuru a hand; his hands were huge, Izuru's pale small ones looked particularly tiny as they shook hands.

"Shuhei often talks about you," he said, his voice was gruff and firm, "And another boy… an Abarai-kun?"

Izuru laughed nervously, "Oh yes, the erm… three of us were quite the trio in high school," he glanced at his watch a little absent-mindedly… if he was going to start dinner for Ichimaru-Sensei, he'd have to be back soon – not to mention the fact he had no idea what to say to the couple… Would it be rude to ask how they'd met, how long they'd been… involved? That and he got the feeling the silver haired adult really wanted to get home. "I'm sorry," he spoke up, "I should be getting on actually, it was lovely meeting you," he said, bowing his head respectfully to Muguruma-san, "Sempai, I hope we can catch up soon."

Hisagi-sempai opened his mouth to protest, but his lover placed a firm hand on his shoulder, stroking his coat-covered arm slightly.

"Shuhei, you promised. I buy popcorn," he leant in and whispered something into his ear. Izuru blushed because he could guess along the lines, as Muguruma-san was smirking and his sempai went a little red across his face.

"I'll, erm, see you soon, Izuru," Hisagi-sempai said firmly, smiling at him, as he brushed his lover back a little bit, "I'll ring you or text you or something, but we'll hang out next week," he waved as the silver-haired man took his hand and began to march him back down the street.

"Nice meeting you, Kira-kun," the man called, before he and Hisagi-sempai were around the opposite corner.

Izuru smiled to himself, fancy that. It was nice his sempai seemed settled, or at least with someone who could tame him a little more. Hisagi-sempai looked happy… he was so lucky. He was barely a year older than Izuru, and Muguruma-san looked a lot older than Ichimaru-Sensei…

He hissed as he realized he was blushing again… Oh God, how on earth was he going to make it through tonight?

***

After last night, Renji had begun to wonder as to whether or not he'd see the light of day again. Although he'd gotten off lucky compared to what Kisuke had done to him for skipping school a few days ago, he was still scared his father was going to kill him…

Getting Jinta to watch The Grudge had seemed like a fun idea at the time, the kid had been such a cocky little brat about it, 'Oh yeah, some punishment, idiot!' He'd honestly had no idea that it would make him as hysterical as it had. Until he'd heard the screaming, he'd thought he'd get nothing more than a jumpy Jinta for the next few days.

He could see why Kisuke was mad. Another thing he had to loathe Yumichika for was the fact that once your sexual world is opened you become aware of others sex lives… like his parents for example. Biological or adopted, your parents' sex life is not a place you want to go! Clearly his little prank on Jinta had ruined one hell of a night for the two of them.

"I hope you slept well, Renji-kun," he remembered Kisuke's voice coldly in the back of his head, "because I didn't get a wink of sleep. I'm afraid Jinta-kun didn't either, he was up every five seconds because one corner of the room looked like a mass of black hair was sprouting from it, and I was to perform continual checks on this." He remembered the vein twitching in Kisuke's forehead.

Right now, Renji had never felt better about being sent out for the chores in his life, he was sure Kisuke had going to lock him in the basement for the rest of his attractive years…

He let out a sigh of relief and glanced down at his shopping bag, it wasn't like he'd been able to buy anything fun. Cereal for the week… everyone liked a different breakfast at Urahara's; Renji would eat anything so long as there was a lot of it, and not coffee based… Ururu liked bland tasting cereal, Jinta liked Coco-Pops, and Tessai and Kisuke preferred a traditional breakfast, which contained a lot of delicious and healthy looking things.

Renji glanced at the clock on his cell phone; it was nearly twelve-thirty… Kisuke would have customers, so it wouldn't matter if he was a little later than normal. He didn't feel like trudging straight home considering he rarely got out these days. The redhead headed down to the stream, walking onto the bridge he and Rukia used to play at when they were kids. He sat himself down on it, dangling his legs over the side, and feeling the soft breeze flutter through his hair… He'd almost forgotten how peaceful it was here. There was nothing but the breeze, the sound of slowly flowing water beneath him, and the odd chatter of people walking past.

Back when they were kids, they probably looked like a right pair of delinquents… Renji, like most little boys, was a disgusting piece of work, he'd lean over the side to spit over the edge, or practice spitting like a cowboy. Either that or he'd be running around, diving into the water like an idiot, or throwing stones at appropriate targets. Sometimes Rukia would join in, but she was never a foul creature, even when she was young, there was a graceful dignity about her. Although he didn't express it as often as he probably should… he adored every bone in that girl's body.

Sighing to himself, Renji opened his eyes and looked up at the midday sky, he stretched out, and was about to clamber down from the bridge, when he saw a familiar face less than ten feet away. A part of him groaned and he severally thought of throwing himself backwards off the small bridge just to avoid any sort of contact…

But then he saw those wisteria eyes, wide with concern, his movements frantic and clutching the mobile phone in his hand.

Yumichika looked a wreck, something that occurred rarely with the narcissistic man, his hair hadn't been combed, he even looked like he was wearing last night's clothes, not that it looked bad, and for someone who hadn't shared his bed for six months, they probably wouldn't notice any difference. For those who had, it was common knowledge that Yumichika never, or very rarely, wore last night's clothes the following day. But it was more than that; his expression was full of worry, a look of distress tainting his painfully beautiful features.

The instant their eyes met his ex-lover rushed towards him, his whole posture seemed on edge and frantic. In any other case Yumichika approaching Renji for something would have resulted in very little cooperation from the redhead, but he couldn't help himself. There was no way he could ignore the distress on his face, the dried tears on his cheeks, and the redness of his pupils…

"Yumichika, what's wrong?" he asked instantly, lowering his voice to a softer tone he used incredibly rarely. Despite his concern and his worry, there was a selfish little part of him that thought snidely, 'I hope its Ikkaku'.

His voice was shaking as he spoke, holding a hand firmly across his eyes, "Y-You haven't seen… or heard from Ikkaku, have you?"

"No, I haven't," he admitted. The snide part of him was sneering at Yumichika, 'Serves you right', while the rest of him, still struggling with the concept of seeing him distressed and not trying to do the utmost to cheer him up.

Yumichika's hands were shaking, "H-He isn't answering his phone…" he looked down at his feet, "And he didn't make it home last night, or come to mine… I-Iba-san hasn't seen him…" he was still struggling to keep a hold of his voice, "I-I'm scared something's happened to him, he can be so… fucking reckless…"

Again he wanted to say 'Tough, you dumped me for that reckless nut. Don't come bawling to me when he vanishes'… But the primal instincts were to wrap his arms around him and hold him tightly as he tried to calm himself down.

Renji held him close, stroking his short violet hair, hating that this was his natural reaction, he couldn't get rid of the damn soft spot, and it still felt so good to wrap his arms around him, to have his hands in his hair… that slender firm body pressing against his... He pulled back a little, holding the other at arms length, "Hey, hey, we'll find him. I promise," He said firmly, "Come on, you're stressed out, and two heads will be better than one."

Yumichika wiped a hand across his face, he took a deep breath and smiled gently, "Thank-you, Renji-kun, I'm sorry, I wouldn't ask, but I've been up half the night trying to find him… I'm so tired," he held his head a little before taking another deep breath and looking up at him.

"So, when did you last hear from Ikkaku?" Renji asked firmly. He'd have to put things into perspective. He was looking for Ikkaku, his friend; he wasn't doing this because Yumichika had asked.

He gestured to his phone, "He left mine at seven to go and see Iba-san… I was doing some class work, he called me at about three in the morning, completely drunk," he rolled his eyes, "I was ignoring him and nodding along, until his voice got quiet… and then I could hear him yelling at running, and then the call ended," he bit his bottom lip, hands clasped together. "Renji, I don't have a clue where he is!"

Fuck… now that was even worrying him a little… What if someone had gotten to Ikkaku?

Renji took a deep breath, "Okay, we just need to put our heads together, we'll find him," he took another deep breath and rubbed his temples, "So… he went to see Iba-san?"

"Yes," he swallowed as if he was trying to remember the whole conversation, "He said he and Ikkaku went to a couple of clubs after Iba finished work, and Ikkaku had been drinking steadily at Rangiku's all night."

The redhead frowned, "Alright, okay, how about we give Iba a call? Just to get the details down good and proper… Then we go and check the streets around the bars Ikkaku usually haunts? And if all else fails… I suppose Zaraki-san wouldn't mind helping us look?"

***

Last night he had been so close to his goal; it was almost painful to have it pulled away from him at the last second… Kenpachi was not a pessimist so he wasn't about to whine or bitch about it, in fact he supposed his goal wouldn't be as exciting to behold if he could obtain it easily.

Naturally he'd gotten home rather late to find a very tired Maki-Maki (which would have to be his name now, because Yachiru was calling him Mini Moustache, and that definitely wasn't a name!). He wasn't about to say he was a good parent, but he must be doing something right as Yachiru was always well behaved when she was with him.

He'd gotten home and his little girl had leapt into his arms, nuzzling his neck and crawling up and onto his shoulders, dangling from his jacket, telling him excitedly that she'd missed him and she and Mini Moustache had been having a lot of fun. Naturally, it seemed like he'd had a pretty easy going night, he'd gone to a fancy party, almost seduced the lovely Byakuya Kuchiki, talked to some interesting people, gotten a lift back from the two guys who'd interrupted his time with Kuchiki, gotten home to his loving daughter, the boys hadn't caused any riots… Kenpachi Zaraki went to sleep without a care in the world.

This morning however was another matter… He woke up in the middle of the day feeling quite content; he could hear Yachiru humming away to herself at the end of the bed, which must have meant she'd crawled in with him again.

Maki-Maki was the worrying time, he always made a big deal out of the fact that Yachiru wouldn't go to bed. Kenpachi had a more practical approach, instead of attempting to force her into bed at eight-thirty against her will (which he didn't have the effort to do, and doubted anyone on earth really did), he just let her drop off when she was tired. The freedom seemed to have paid off, some nights he'd come to bed to find his bed taken up a little pink-haired girl. Luckily for him she'd grown out of the stage where it was the two of them and most of her stuffed animals.

He'd woken up and ruffled her hair affectionately as he made his way to the bathroom. Maybe he had gotten off a little too well with no men in fights last night, but as he raised his head to the mirror, he went completely pale.

All over his face, someone, and he could easily guess who, had drawn on his face with felt-tips! He had pink sparkles on his cheeks and forehead, a kiss mark on his chin, his lips had been coloured purple and she seemed to have drawn green glasses around his eyes and a blue beard.

"Hey, Yachiru – what on earth do you call this?"

She was giggling, now stood up by the bed, trying to hide her obvious guilt with a look of complete innocence. "What's what, Kenny?"

"Don't play dumb," he stood over her, watching her lean up a little and step back so she could still see his face. On the rare occasions they did fight, he'd always try staring her down. It never seemed to work though.

"You're dumb!" She responded, "Why're you being boring, Kenny? Your dumb snoring woke me up – I was bored! Why'd ya lock the door anyway?"

Locking the door… he briefly remembered talking to a few of his men yesterday, they were complaining about Yachiru sneaking into their rooms in the morning. He had been a teenage boy once, nobody really wanted their Sensei's little girl (cute as she was) bouncing on their bed at seven o'clock in the morning, inquiring about the young lady they'd snuck into their room the night before and putting more personal items of clothing on her head and running around the room…

"I locked the door to keep you out of trouble, but I see you found it," he went to the bathroom to search for something to scrub his face clean with… When Ikkaku started dating, Kenpachi moved the boy into the complex down the street. He loved that stupid boy in a sort of warped affection kind of way, however that definitely didn't mean he wanted to hear the more… intimate side of his relationships. But it was times like this, when he had something stuck on his face, that he missed Ikkaku living in the next room, and more specifically Yumichika's make-up wipes.

He settled for water and a washcloth, it had a little blood on it in one of the corners… though he couldn't remember why or where from. Bending down a little, he splashed cold water on his cheeks, taking the cloth and beginning to scrub, leaving it in an awkward array of colour.

Meanwhile beside him, Yachiru hopped up onto the window ledge, beaming and swinging her little legs tirelessly, "Well, Kenny, I'm glad you don't have glasses, c'os that'd look silly on you!"

"Thanks for your opinion," he grunted sarcastically, looking back up at his reflection, he'd gotten most of it off… with exception to the sparkles dotted all over his cheeks, they had run into an oozy pink, giving him to look of an unsuccessful transsexual, not really something he'd ever thought to consider while looking at his own reflection.

Yachiru pouted, leaning a little closer, "Oh come on, Kenny – see the funny side! I couldn't help being bored!"

It was difficult to get mad at her. Kenpachi Zaraki, possibly one of the most feared men in martial arts, inspired young men accidentally throughout the land… was wrapped around the little finger of his six year old.

"Yeah, yeah, fine. So if I let you out, will you behave?" he headed out of the room and towards the door once his face was completely clear.

Yachiru's eyes lit up, "Yeah – of course, Kenny – no need to be so rude!" she shook her hips in irritation. Just recently, and he supposed it was because she was getting a little older, she kept trying to act more womanly. This mostly involved putting her hands on her hips, pouting, and complaining about things she didn't actually mind too much. And finding her a good female role model didn't look like such a good idea; he didn't know many respectable women, and Yachiru didn't respect anyone except herself and him.

"Yeah, yeah, just don't cause trouble," he watched her little form dance down the stairs, before he turned his attention back to his bedroom, and more specifically, the telephone. He had gotten Byakuya's number from Gin a few days ago now, but hadn't thought to try it out yet.

Flopping unceremoniously onto the bed, he lay on his back against the pillows and dialled in Kuchiki's number into the phone. A fine piece like him probably wouldn't lounge around all day… no, he'd most likely be hacking away at a key board behind a desk, wearing a suit, and looking all fancy and proper… It was a very lovely sight indeed…

"Hello, Byakuya Kuchiki's office, how may I help you?"

So he had a secretary… well, a man as rich and powerful as he claimed to be was likely to have one. Gin did seem a little uneasy (as uneasy as that guy could get) about giving him Byakuya's number without his permission, which would explain why he'd given him his work number, instead of his mobile.

The secretary had a dull female voice, in fact until he heard her cough; he was almost convinced it was a robotic voice rather than a flesh and blood woman. She sounded young and from her tone, probably reliable for someone like Kuchiki.

"I'd like to speak to your boss," he said, grinning a little, "I'm sure he's available."

"Who can I ask wishes to speak to him?"

"Kenpachi Zaraki."

"I'm afraid Mr Kuchiki is unavailable at the moment. But I will tell him that a Kenpachi Zaraki-san called and he should get back to you as soon as possible."

He rolled his eyes, this wasn't acceptable. He was ready to talk dirty down the phone and try and arrange another rendezvous…

"Well, what's he doing?"

"I don't believe I'm entitled to share that information."

She had absolutely no emotion in her voice, she would have sounded like she was being difficult, but her tone was devoid of any sort of personality to suggest difficulty.

"Look, I'm not asking anything particular; I'd just like to know whether or not he's in a meeting."

"I apologize, sir, but Mr Kuchiki is working; he doesn't accept unprofessional phone calls when he's working."

Well that was a little more information…

"Who says I'm not professional?"

"I'm afraid I'm not entitled to share that information."

Was he taking the piss out of him? He scratched his hair in frustration, "Listen, lady, I just want to talk to your boss, is that too difficult?"

"Mr Kuchiki is working at the moment. I will tell him you called, sir."

He was so mad he felt like ordering… Maki-Maki to turn on the laptop, find out where the Kuchiki building was, drive down there, brush past this damnable woman, and give Kuchiki a good shaking for being so damned difficult to get a hold of!

"Yeah, that'd be spiffing," he grunted, slamming the phone down in irritation.

***

"Mr Kuchiki," Nemu poked her head around the door of his office, carrying a note pad to her chest. She was dressed in a knee length black skirt, and a clean white shirt that showed off a hint of her cleavage. There was a neat little belt around her waist to emphasise her slender form.

Byakuya glanced up from his laptop, "Is there something wrong, Nemu?" He removed his reading glasses and surveying his secretary with uncertainty, it was rare for the quiet woman to disturb him with… anything really. He half wondered if her father had called again; now there was a man he really could not stand.

"No, sir," she glanced down at her notepad, "I only wish to inform you that a Kenpachi Zaraki called for you. I sent him away, was it wrong of me, sir?"

He certainly wasn't expecting that – where on earth could he have gotten his number? His cheeks darkened a little as he thought back to last night… the larger man's hand resting upon his body, his gruff voice purring into his ear.

"Yes, yes you were… and if he calls again, tell him I am in a meeting."

"Yes, of course, sir."

If he'd hired a nosier person, he'd have seen some sort of inquiring expression, if not a lot of embarrassing questions. But with Nemu, all he received was the same blank gaze and a nod of understanding.

He was lucky to have such a perfect secretary…

***

Luppi had to admit, he wasn't used to being messed around. Never in his life had he been faced with something that didn't seem quite like it would turn him on his head. He'd always had everything he wanted; his erratic adoring mother had always given him all she could with the drop of a hat. His grades had been good, and despite his feminine appearance, he'd always had the appropriate amount of attention from anyone he longed for. Of course he'd had a few bad relationships, who hadn't? However all of them had ended, as they should; with Luppi breaking them up and being longed after.

Grimmjow had totally knocked him off his momentum. The stupid prick might as well have punched a hole through his chest or something! Nobody broke up with him, especially so casually!

"Hey, Luppi-kun, you're getting a bit forceful with that stapler again," taunted a voice from behind him.

He slammed his hand down on the stapler aggressively, turning around to see Ichimaru Gin stood behind his desk, with that same sinister grin on his lips. The teacher was also known as Aizen's Golden Boy, which would have made him terrifying enough as it was. Although he was one who got on quite well with Gin he was still a little afraid of him, he doubted it was possible to know Ichimaru Gin without fearing him in a sense.

"It… doesn't always work," he smiled brightly at the taller man, "It's nice to see you, Gin-san. What brings you to my office?"

"Ain't a guy allowed t' just visit a friend?" He beamed at him, lounging down on his desk, moving the others files aside as if they were definitely of less importance. He turned back to Luppi after a second of browsing his desk, with that same haunting smile, "Well, t' tell the truth, I did have… ulterior motives when I popped down to yer office."

He wondered when Gin didn't have ulterior motives briefly, before leaning forwards on his hand, his lips drawn into a wide smirk, "So, can I inquire as to these ulterior motives?"

"I heard the other day, that ya were spreadin' stuff about Grimmjow-san?"

Well, at least he wasn't bullshitting, which he was in a habit of doing… But the comment had caught him off guard. When anyone mentioned that blue-haired fucker's name, he felt a liquid rage boil in his belly. Flashbacks of all the dirty things he'd done with that man. And it had been dirty… Luppi had a taste for sex as it was, but with Grimmjow, he couldn't even help himself, he'd wanted it all the time, and the blue-haired male had been oh too happy to give it him. The two of them found themselves doing things they wouldn't have even considered in their dirtiest fantasies. They'd done it on the boss's desk at the Christmas Party (it didn't sound like much unless you considered their boss was Sosuke Aizen), he'd let Grimmjow stick a vibrator in him for a day at work, controlling by a remote; not exactly appropriate for when he was meeting clients, but Grimmjow had insisted.

All of that pleasure and embarrassment contrasted with Grimmjow's cocky tone, 'Yeah, Luppi, whatever we had… well, it's over now.'

He couldn't even work out why he was so angry with him. Perhaps it was because he'd liked him, a little more than he'd ever liked anyone else. Perhaps it was because after all that excitement, after all that unbelievably good sex, he'd been dumped for a teenager who still looked like a virgin to him.

"You have me all wrong;" Luppi pouted irritably, "Spreading things makes it sound like I made something up, Gin-san."

"Oh I don't think yer made it up at all, I just wanted t' make sure I'd heard the whole story!"

He didn't exactly trust that at all… From the look he'd gotten at that high school brat Grimmjow had with him, he attended Karakura High School; where Gin taught. The other was probably trying to find some sort of way to get the focus off his pupil. Perhaps Gin had a reason not to want Child Protection digging around in his classes?

Luppi flicked back his short pixy style hair, "I know what you're thinking. Yammy has already said it; I'm spreading shit because it's Grimmjow. I'm merely thinking of the firm, I'm sure Aizen-sama doesn't want this business to be seen as the sort which hoards child molesters."

Gin's eye twitched a little at that comment, "I believe ya, Luppi-san; I really do. I just think yer rushin' into stuff a bit much. I mean, go complainin' to Aizen-sama, Kaname gets involved; if he found out Grimmjow-san wasn't screwing with the kid," he shrugged his shoulders, "There goes yer validity. And say Grimmjow did something bad in the next couple o' years, who'd believe ya? Yer'd just be 'spreadin' shit c'os he dumped ya'," he looked back at him with that same brilliant smirk, "See what I mean?"

He actually felt a shiver run down his spine, instantly he felt his eyes lower to the floor… were his feet shaking? "You erm… have a point there."

Okay, so maybe he'd exaggerated the story a little when he presented it to Aizen. He hadn't meant too, it had been jealous rage. Grimmjow turns up with some kid, bold as brass. Some high school brat as well – he doesn't even look like Grimmjow's type – he could never satisfy him the same!

His mind had jumped from one conclusion to another… Until the point he was spilling a truth and lies story to Aizen-sama about Grimmjow bribing a minor into silence after fucking him…

Gin leant forward and patted him on the head, "I knew yer'd see it my way, Luppi-san. Yer so smart!" He glanced around the office for a moment before letting out a long low whistle, "Anyway, I have business t' get too; yer know how it is. Bye-bye!"

Luppi watched the enigmatic man turn on his heel and vanish out of the door. He felt a flicker of annoyance dance through him… Why was it he could be so easily controlled at times?

***

Kenpachi Zaraki sighed; he had sat around his room, wondering briefly if Byakuya would call him, if only to order him not to call in that prissy little voice. However when the phone did ring, it was Ikkaku's friend with the red-hair… so no-where near what he craved on any level.

"What d'ya want?" he grunted. Kenpachi Zaraki was not normally the sort of man to wait around the phone, but in this case he was quite eager to continue their little game.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Zaraki-sama," the boy yelped, the fear painfully obvious. It was sort of reassuring that he could still scare people just by grunting angrily at them, "I didn't mean to disturb you at a difficult time, and I know it's awfully presumptuous of me to ring you and just assume you'd have time for me-!"

The phone was snatched, and he heard a familiar voice; Yumichika, "I apologize for this, sir, but I'm in urgent need of your help. It's Ikkaku…"

Now that got his attention, he let out a heavy sigh, "What's he gone and done now, Yumichika?"

Yumichika let out a heavy sigh, he sounded like he'd been crying and had he been a softer man he probably would have crumbled at that fact. He listened intently to the others story; apparently Ikkaku and Iba had fought last night and broken off from each other. He could hear the other man's voice talking with Renji Abarai in the background, which probably meant Yumichika, had put quite a search party going. Kenpachi rubbed his head, Ikkaku was normally a good student, but he hated it when he pulled stunts like this! He'd drink himself stupid, then go and get himself mixed up in a dumb fight. Still, Ikkaku was his responsibility and if something happened to him – hide it he might – he'd feel terrible.

"Alright, Yumichika; whereabouts are you boys now?" Kenpachi sighed, rubbing his temples, "I'll come and help you look for him… No, no, its fine, we'll find Ikkaku. I'll beat the bum into shape when we do."

He hung up the phone, groaning a little as he rose to the window to finish dressing himself. He slipped into a pair of jeans and a shirt from a few days ago; he fixed up his jacket and tried to get his mind off a certain man, and onto the matter of finding his tenacious student.

Just recently he had noticed a change in Ikkaku. He was training harder than ever, doing more hours than anyone else in the dojo, which wasn't exactly uncharacteristic of him anyway, but there was something… a little unnatural about his focus. He skipped school to train, Kenpachi could care less, but there were times he had to remind himself that he was the boy's teacher and not his friend. If he had to think about it, the only time Ikkaku wasn't training was when he was with Yumichika or when he was out drinking with his friends; so naturally he encouraged both of those things. As a former pupil, he talked to Iba a lot, the man seemed to have a few worries about Ikkaku; he had implied, though he hadn't said anything completely certain, that Ikkaku was practicing in under-ground Fight Club's… And if that was the case…

***

The trouble with society was probably that it had too many 'do not's (!)'. And the trouble within the trouble was that all the 'do not's (!)' were very attractive: Drinking, sex, smoking (not that he smoked or anything), fighting… on a very ignorant view, homosexuality.

If he had to think about it, Ikkaku probably ticked the box for most, if not all of societies little foot holes. Not always, but rather often, he'd find himself getting into a mess over these seemingly easy going things.

Last night it had been fighting.

Over drinks at Rangiku's, he and Iba had been talking and the conversation strayed towards Ikkaku's part in the up coming karate national tournament, how his school kendo team (the only reason Ikkaku hadn't been told by Karakura High School to 'jog on') was competing… which had set his mind up for fighting.

Then a bunch of bums tried to trash the place (one of them had tried to pull a waitress into the toilets for some fun, and didn't like being told to leave), so he and Iba, being the honourable sort, had taken it upon themselves to remove the men for Rangiku and kick their asses.

Being drunk and having just fought a bunch of weaklings, the natural step for Ikkaku seemed to be to go and fight somewhere else. He wanted to go to the Red Bull, a local fight club for the over 25's, to which Ikkaku had become something of a regular. He lied his way in, and once or twice he'd won the Grand Prize; and what guy couldn't use a few ten thousand yen these days?

Unfortunately Iba was more fun when he was younger, and now, in his mid-twenties, he was beginning to show an irritating sense of reason and responsibility.

Ikkaku could briefly remember him saying, 'Geez, Ikkaku, when's this gonna stop? You could get killed in a place like that, and they'll ban ya and hospitalise ya if they find yer a minor.'

He could recall shoving him and Iba shoving him back and telling him to 'Get yer ass home, before ya make a fool of yerself!'

But based on the fact he couldn't recall going home, and this alleyway definitely wasn't home, he could only assume he'd told Iba where to stick it, and done what he wanted to do anyway… Glancing down briefly at his body, he could see a few bruises on his arms, and he was real stiff, like he'd been fighting… Wincing he felt his jaw ache as he attempted to move it. This sucked… Gripping the wall, Ikkaku forced himself to his feet, instantly noticing a pain in his leg; he'd definitely been kicked real hard.

Looking up at the wall as he began to force himself out of the alleyway, not sure how he was moving on his aching legs, Ikkaku recognized the Red Bull building. From how aching his body was, he could only assume he had been inside… and maybe passed out in the alley on leaving. Frowning he turned his attention to the wallet, stuffed unceremoniously into the back pocket of his jeans… upon taking it out, Ikkaku's look of complete exhaustion switched into a delighted grin.

Forty thousand yen!

So he had won, Ikkaku wiped his bloody lower lip, and pocketed his wallet again, heading down the street, with a strange sense of pride only a battered from fighting man could really posses.

Come to think of it, where on earth was his mobile?

He could remember something else briefly… after Iba walked off on him… Those guys came back… and they had friends with them… Wincing, he glanced down at himself, nothing broken. Ah, he probably just kicked their asses again!

Ikkaku whistled to himself, hoping nobody had worried about him or anything, because that would be totally unnecessary and…

"IKKAKU!"

Shit!

Before he had time to turn around, someone had thrown themselves at his back, arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he felt Yumichika's face pressing against his back. His head was spinning as he was turned around, and about to embrace his lover, when he slapped him hard around the face.

"I was worried about you, you idiot! Where have you been?"

Glancing behind Yumichika, he spotted quite the search party had assembled for him… Renji, who looked relieved, waved nervously at him. Beside him was Rangiku, who was chatting away to him, saying something like 'I told you we'd find him!'

Though if he thought Renji was relieved, he could barely believe the look on Iba's face. Frankly the older man had blamed himself completely for Ikkaku's disappearance; it must be the whole mid-twenties' responsibility kicking in. Iba turned his head around the corner, calling to someone.

Ikkaku went pale as he saw his Sensei catch up with the others, he didn't look worried, but he did look pissed off… which meant he must have been worried. At this moment in time, he couldn't work out who he was more scared to see; Yumichika or Kenpachi Zaraki…

Both looked about ready to tear his head off…

***

Izuru supposed it was natural to be stressed. He took a deep breath as he bent down to take the sake out of the cupboard. Everything was ready, he'd set the table up with snacks… he was dressed. But he was still unable to believe that Ichimaru-Sensei was coming to his house, when just the two of them would be here!

The blonde closed the cupboard, and placed the bottle on the table… Maybe the candles were over the top… He nibbled his bottom lip, placing the glasses opposite each other. He wondered if Ichimaru-Sensei would mind him drinking, he didn't seem particularly resentful catching him in the bar; in fact that was what started this wonderful situation… Normally he was good at being responsible, but he wouldn't be able to relax, and the last thing he needed was squeaking and getting embarrassed whenever Ichimaru-Sensei got within inches of him…

He made sure to take another deep breath before he looked over at his reflection in the mirror. He'd picked out a tight fitting white shirt and a smart pair of jeans, he hadn't meant to dress particularly formally… it just sort of happened. He wasn't as fortunate as Renji to be able to just be informal and carry it off. He wasn't like Hisagi-Sempai, who could switch between the two like a master. He was always so formal, and knew without a doubt that Ichimaru-Sensei would tease him about it…

The boy yelped as he heard a knock at the door, almost dropping the glass, he placed it on the table and sprinted to the door. Pausing as he did to take a deep breath, looking at his reflection in the mirror, before he breathed in nice and deep, calming his blush to the best of his ability as he recognized the familiar outline of the man he so adored…

He turned the key in the lock and his eyes instantly fell to his feet, "Welcome, Ichimaru-Sensei…"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Ichigo rolled his eyes as he opened the apartment door.

He hadn't really expected much, he wasn't after all some precious housewife who slaved away all day and longed for affection at night, and nor was he a busy husband who worked long hours and wanted someone waiting for him at the door, ready to shower him with love and devotion. It wasn't that he really wanted someone waiting for him, ready to ask him how his day had been or what he'd brought for dinner, but it would have been nice to at least have someone making an effort on his arrival to at least acknowledge him. That wasn't even the only problem, the fact was this was Grimmjow's shopping, brought with Grimmjow's money and being carried by Grimmjow's boyfriend into Grimmjow's flat . . . Even if it wasn't the older man's style some gratitude would have been appreciated!

Truthfully any other day Ichigo would have flipped out and gave Grimmjow a piece of his mind, it wasn't right after all that he was just taken for granted and to be ignored like this was plain rude! It was just frustrating, especially when he was used to all the attention from his family, it wasn't as if he was asking for much when he expected his boyfriend to make some effort. It was always the same though; Grimmjow was a selfish, self-centred, arrogant bastard. Sometimes Ichigo had to wonder why he even stayed with the teal-haired jerk, but then he remembered that despite Grimmjow's 'uncaring' façade this was the man who was willing to wait (without cheating) a whole year for him for anything physical. This was the man who'd taught him to care about himself and not blame himself for the past, the man who'd spoil him at times and always constantly brag about him to his friends, and the man who more than anything loved to hug, hold and tell Ichigo how much he loved him. If anything Grimmjow kind of depended on Ichigo, needing him to stay grounded and responsible, but Ichigo knew better than to expect any kind of confession like that from him.

Like Ichigo had said, usually he'd have given the jackass a piece of his mind, but today was different, after all Grimmjow had been on a roller coaster of emotions and to start screaming at him probably wouldn't help.

The morning had been pretty great actually, the night before they'd ordered take-out and sat watching some movies before heading to bed, Ichigo – despite being pissed at his boyfriend's earlier teasing – decided perhaps it wouldn't be too bad to . . . maybe . . . share the bed. Convincing Grimmjow to stay on his side, not get naked, keep his shorts on, not molest Ichigo in his sleep and not try to get hot and heavy with him was admittedly a chore at first, but his boyfriend respected him enough to play nice after some not-so-funny teasing, and they'd spent their very first night sleeping together, with Ichigo wrapped warmly in Grimmjow's arms. It'd been amazing to wake up to. Ichigo – for the first time in his life – didn't feel alone, he'd been able to wake up in the warm arms of his loved one and relish the intimacy and closeness, the feeling of being so close to another human that he couldn't even remember experiencing. It was also the first time he'd woken with a smile.

They'd been ready to stay in bed all day and even spent a few hours discussing their relationship over breakfast, meaning cold takeout from the night before for Grimmjow and bottled water with dried fruit for Ichigo, who refused to eat crap at eight in the morning but couldn't find anything healthy either. The discussion had gone well as far as Ichigo was concerned, he'd finally agreed he was ready to step things up between them, although not as far as full-on sex, and Grimmjow seemed thrilled at the idea of some 'hands-on' Ichigo time, but was willing to stay in line, not wanting to overstep any lines. By the time they'd finished talking Ichigo knew he was bright red, stuttering and sitting up in foetal position like the ground would swallow him, but luckily for him Grimmjow just found the whole thing cute. It wasn't until the phone call that the mood between them had changed . . .

Grimmjow's mobile phone rang at some time around nine a.m., with his boss Aizen informing him he was under a paid suspension until further notice, along with the details why. Of course Grimmjow had gone berserk, screaming that the boy in question was his boyfriend and that everyone knew, including Ichigo's father, finishing with how Luppi was crazy and anyone that into vibrators during office hours had to be insane. The exact words in reply seemed to be 'although that is most disturbing, I am not certain it is indicative of mental instability'. He of course complained about who'd pay for his little sister's education, health care and things if he were to get fired but it didn't seem that Aizen was listening. All in all it could have gone a lot better.

It'd been followed around three p.m. with a rather odd text from Gin Ichimaru saying: 'Aizen-sama's starting his meeting, but he wants you to know you can start back at work tomorrow. The complaints have been dropped, but Kaname-san is still forcing a sexual harassment seminar on everyone tomorrow at five, and a lecture on bullying at seven. I wouldn't mind but guess who has to hold it! I hope you and Luppi will enjoy being 'teacher's pet' for this. Kisses! Gin.' Ichigo wasn't sure what was weirder, the fact that the Arrancar Corp. was so flaky it'd start an investigation in the morning and then mysteriously drop it that afternoon, or that Gin actually spoke rather good Japanese in his texts . . .

To clear his head Ichigo had left to do some grocery shopping, leaving a now mentally and emotionally exhausted Grimmjow to bitch on the couch, moaning on the phone to Yammy how unfair it was they were messing with his head like that, and how he was going to make Luppi suffer royally the next day. After an hour Ichigo had expected things to go back to normal, but no, Grimmjow was still bitching on the phone, but this time to Stark.

"Yo, Grimmjow, I'm home!" He glanced over to the couch where the heated voice was coming from; he couldn't see his lover, only the sofa-back, but he knew full well he was there, "I need a lift home in an hour, dad wants me home tonight and I have to study if I want to keep my grades up. He also wants you there for dinner, I tried to say no but Yuzu was cooking and guilt-tripped me into saying yes. Yo! Bastard! Do you even hear me?"

"Yeah, I can hear ya! So can the whole apartment building!" Grimmjow snapped from where he lay on the sofa, "Shut it, will you, I'm on the phone."

Ichigo scowled angrily and stormed over to the kitchen counter, dropping all the bags on top. He'd probably be expected to put all of it away too, like a good little slave, well if that's what Grimmjow expected then he could go screw himself, Ichigo had enough to deal with like schoolwork, friends and family, he didn't want to be doing unnecessary chores too. He wished he could say this was atypical behaviour, but it wasn't, the damned man was always like this and it tested Ichigo's last nerve.

He shifted through several bags until he came to the one with all the heavy items, with a huge burst of effort he yanked it from the countertop and began to march across the room to Grimmjow. Despite his heavy footsteps the stupid jerk still hadn't so much as lifted his head, in fact when Ichigo reached the sofa and looked down at him he was just lounging there with phone by his ear, not a damned care in the world. Pantera was watching him lazily as she sat over on the television set, and meanwhile Grimmjow continued bitching on the phone like he didn't have company at all. It was the last straw for Ichigo and so, lifting the bag high over the couch, and dropped it right onto Grimmjow's stomach.

At once the teal-haired man yelled out in pain, flinched visibly and snapped his phone shut as he dropped it to the floor, desperately trying to lift the heavy weight off of his now tender stomach: "What the fuck?"

"Get off your lazy ass and help me unpack this stuff," Came Ichigo's gruff reply.

Grimmjow resisted the urge to argue back and quickly got up, lifting the large bag off from his stomach to carry it over to the countertop. He hadn't any idea what right Ichigo had to be pissed with him for, he'd a pretty rough day as it was and as far as he was concerned chores weren't going to make it better, besides he hadn't asked the redhead to go shopping for him.

Still, a part of him felt kind of happy at the thought the other man was relaxed enough with him to consider this his 'home away from home'; buying groceries, sleeping over, making sure the place was ticking over, it made it feel like Ichigo wasn't just a boyfriend that stopped over but a part of the family. Hell, he got on great with Nel, made sure Pantera was fed and for the first time ever even spent the night in Grimmjow's bed, maybe he already was family, but still it'd be a long time before anyone heard wedding bells ringing. He loved Ichigo, and he loved this little game of house they had playing, but it was a bit soon to be planning too far ahead commitment wise . . . not when Ichigo wasn't even comfortable with the idea of sex yet, let alone anything like marriage.

He walked quickly over, ignoring Ichigo as he began putting the more perishable foods in the fridge and freezer, and started shifting through the bag he was holding as he headed to the counter. It was mostly full of cat-food (no wonder it had hurt!) and jars of jams, cans of pop and a bottle of wine, which he guessed probably had came from Rangiku, since anyone who cared about their license wouldn't have sold that to a minor in a million years. He dropped the bag on the countertop and began to help start stocking the food away.

"What's with half this stuff? I don't even drink wine or cola."

"Yeah? Well I do, jackass," Ichigo snapped.

Grimmjow smiled as he saw his boyfriend blush, probably at admitting he was leaving things for himself here in his boyfriend's flat, which was frankly a serious step up in a relationship but one step below having a drawer with spare clothing. It was a sign that Ichigo really wanted to be here, spend time here, and felt secure enough to leave things of his own here that he could use when he needed.

The wine of course definitely wasn't something that Ichigo drank, that was a blatant lie, but perhaps his little strawberry was planning on a romantic night sometime? It wasn't exactly Ichigo's style so it'd probably be some sort of Mission Impossible, covert romance where 'sorry I opened the wrong bottle by mistake' or 'I thought you wanted some? Well screw you then!' It was cute in a way, knowing his boyfriend was still so innocent and virginal he had to act all tough and nonchalant, like if he played all the romance down then he was still the hard teenager he pretended to be, or the grown-up he wanted to be recognised as, but what he didn't realise was by freaking out over the small things he just seemed more innocent than ever. Hell, they'd gone to Urahara's one night when Yoruichi was stopping over, she came out in a towel which 'slipped' – much to most of the men's interest – and Ichigo had screamed blue murder! It was adorable and just made Grimmjow want to protect and fawn over him, which in turn just pissed Ichigo off more, which in turn made him cuter. . . it was a vicious cycle.

"Yo, you mentioned a dinner at ya dad's? What the hell for? Didn't we have dinner there last week?" Grimmjow growled, throwing the plastic bag into the non-burnable waste pile, "You said you wanted to take the relationship up a notch, right? So aren't you going to spend the night here?"

Ichigo frowned at him as he flushed bright red, looking somewhere between exploding from embarrassment and snapping in anger, however he ignored Grimmjow enough to start loading fruits and daikon into a container on the side of the countertop. This time Grimmjow had to roll his eyes, did the kid seriously think he'd be cooking any fruit or vegetables any time soon? By the time he got round to even thinking about them they'd be off and rotting out the place with a creepy smell, unless . . . Ichigo had plans of cooking?

"Idiot," Ichigo grumbled. "He's my dad and they're my sisters, I have to see them more than just once a week, and you see me every other day. Anyway, we've been dating a year now and you're a part of the family, like it or not, so you have to spend time with them too." He bit his tongue to keep from commenting on all the times he'd spent babysitting Nel or hanging around with their two crazy cousins, "Anyway, are you that much of a horn-dog that you can't go even a day after I give you the all clear to do . . . you know . . . stuff?"

Grimmjow laughed loudly.

Oh God, was he really so innocent and clueless that even now – after a whole year together – he still couldn't bring himself to say the word 'hand job'? That was just too adorable! How did he expect to do it if he couldn't even say it? Maybe he was only agreeing to do things after the whole Luppi incident, it was reasonable to be somewhat jealous and possessive after all when someone's ex starts to play games, but despite Ichigo's insanely competitive side he didn't think that was the case. It seemed like during their earlier discussion Ichigo had been truly sincere, actually wanting to go ahead and do it, and Grimmjow sure as hell wasn't going to say no to him. Still, it was just so freaking cute how childlike he could act! What teenager on Earth hadn't ever touched another person, let alone was unable to say the words?

He was still laughing nearly hysterically when Ichigo began to blush almost to extremes, his eyes almost watering in a way he would completely deny later, and his whole body tense with anger and frustration. If there was one thing Ichigo hated it was to be mocked, after all throughout his whole life no one had ever taken him seriously, especially with his hair, and so to here his own boyfriend openly laughing at him was . . . hurtful. Sure it pissed him off but for some reason it hurt him too, which was odd because usually when people laughed at him he just beat them to a pulp or in the case of the girls just screamed at them, but for some reason hearing Grimmjow laughing at his own naivety and innocence was painful. It just made him feel like the butt of a joke, like there was something abnormal about him, and it wasn't a nice feeling. In fact the feeling itself just made him even angrier, making him want to sock Grimmjow in the face if he didn't shut up.

In the end he settled for grabbed a large onigiri, the final thing left of the shopping, and threw it square at Grimmjow's head, relishing in the splat sound and loving how Grimmjow was forced to pick off flakes of rice from his face and hair. His stupid smile was now gone and instead he was glaring at Ichigo, as if it was his fault! God damn bastard! How dare he glare at Ichigo? He was the one who was acting like a royal dick!

"What the hell was that for?" He snapped at the redhead.

"You – you don't think I'm ready to – to – to do that, do you?" Ichigo shouted, still blushing, "Well I'll freaking show you; you stupid, blue-haired, German-named jerk! I can do anything I say I can, and if I say I'm willing to do that with you then I will!"

"Jesus, Ichigo," Grimmjow said with a sigh, scratching inside his ear as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling in a very nonchalant manner, "you can't even say 'I want to jerk you off', let alone freaking do it."

"Oh? Well fine! We'll just see about that!"

Grimmjow was suddenly jerked out of his thoughts by his boyfriend grabbing him harshly by the wrist and dragging him backwards, his whole balance was completely thrown as he was forced out of the kitchen area and over into the direction of the bedroom. Ichigo was so pissed off that he was virtually yanking his arm out of his socket, and his grip was so tight that there was sure to be a bruise around Grimmjow's wrist, which would be hell to explain in an hour's time when he had to sit with Ichigo's family for dinner. He really hadn't any idea what had gotten into the boy, seriously he knew he could be thickheaded and impulsive but this was something entirely knew. Was Ichigo really that pissed off? Did he want a fight or something?

After a few seconds he found himself being shoved unceremoniously into his bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him, then with a harsh push he found himself knocked down onto his bed. The movement had knocked his sense of balance once more and when he looked up he could see Ichigo looking both terrified and mortified, kind of like an embarrassed deer in the headlights, and whilst the look was adorable it suddenly made click in Grimmjow's head just what Ichigo wanted to do. Bloody kid, always had to prove himself and be better than everyone else, didn't he? Grimmjow laughed at him and so of course his first reaction is 'prove him wrong', yeah, that was mature and definitely what a first should be based upon. True, it wasn't like they would be going all the way but he still wanted it to mean something and matter to them both, something perfect they'd always remember – especially Ichigo.

"Ichigo, you know you -"

"Shut it! I know I don't have to do this, but I want to. So let's just do it, okay?"

Grimmjow swallowed loudly. Sure it wasn't something he'd expected to happen when he got up this morning, but now it had he was sure as hell glad of it, to see Ichigo so assertive and take-charge was pretty arousing, and to get a free orgasm would be a great way to relieve some stress too. It'd also be good for building intimacy between them and enhancing there relationship. However if Grimmjow was totally honest about why he was allowing this it was simple: he was a man, how was he supposed to say 'no'?

Licking his lips he grinned up at Ichigo and gave a playful sneer; "Bring it on."

* * *

It had been a rather unusual day as far as Gin was concerned . . .

True it had started off pretty normal, after all with the heavy drinking at Rangiku-san's he'd expected a little hangover in the morning, but luckily with a cold shower and some pain-killers he was right as rain. In fact by the time lunchtime rolled around he'd began marking those history essays, cooking some lunch and planning his seminars for tomorrow at Arrancar Corp., whilst meanwhile his phone call from Rangiku-san had told him that the poor woman was suffering most grievously from the effects of alcohol. He'd been tempted to 'accidentally' leave the phone by the kettle for a moment as he cooked, just to have the joy of hearing her groan from the noise, but he wasn't that cruel . . . nah, he'd left it by the television set instead. He'd have to be careful not to accept any drinks from her for a while, but it was worth it.

It was from that point onwards that his day deviated from the norm. He'd appeared at Zaraki-san's at around three o'clock, ready to baby-sit for Yachiru like he'd promised, only to find that Zaraki-san had already left on a hunt for his pupil Ikkaku, and meanwhile Yachiru was running amuck with Maki-Maki as he failed to stop her overloading on sugar. The very sight made his smile falter and a slight nervous frown take over his face, because – after all – a hyper Yachiru was a very uncontrollable, dangerous Yachiru and that wasn't really something he was equipped to deal with, not when he was still recovering from last night's drinking binge. Instead he'd given her glitter, glue and sparkly pens and let her 'decorate' the punching bags, sitting across the room with a interesting yet light novel, making sure to get his story straight for when Zaraki-san returned. In the end he'd decided with 'my, really? I fell asleep after working so hard all night; I didn't think Maki-Maki-san would ever allow Yachiru to do something like this . . .' He wasn't really surprised when it actually worked.

It had been a very long afternoon though and so when Zaraki returned Maki-Maki was in a lot of trouble, what with the actual 'mud-cakes' baking in the oven complete with worms and two bathtubs overflowing with water, in which were 'Froggy-chan' and 'Kenny-Two' who seemed to be some sort of duck if Gin was any judge of things. The experience really made him hope that if he ever had kids it'd be Izuru-kun raising them, especially if they had Yachiru's energy.

When Zaraki-san came back he eventually learnt why the man had been gone for so long, without having left even with a message as to say why. It turned out Madarame-kun had been in some sort of fight, the poor guy was lounging in hospital at the moment with the scary couple Kurostuchi-sensei and Unohana-sensei watching over him for the night, meanwhile Zaraki was frowning like a madman and looking like he was out for blood. Gin was kind of thankful that it was already seven-thirty by that point as it meant he had an excuse to sneak off, what with school tomorrow and his 'private tutoring' little Izuru-kun. In fact it had taken him exactly thirty-minutes to reach Izuru-kun's house, a fact he was very proud of as it meant he was exactly on time, causing him to already be smiling brightly as he reached the door. He'd had to reschedule last night's tuition for a drinking party, so he could only hope Izuru-kun would forgive him tonight, but if he didn't it didn't matter because he was sure he could get the blonde to forgive him! It wasn't that hard after all to make him blush.

Izuru's house was on an upmarket part of town, not quite in the same area as Shihoin-san or Aizen-sama where the residents were the type to have hired help, bodyguards and international fame, but in a rich enough place that one was always reminded how 'common' they were in comparison to the plastic surgery moms, sports car dads and trust-fund sons. In fact Gin felt kind of lucky the gates to the house had been opened, had he had to press a buzzer or something he really would have been hit hard with the fact he was probably very common to the likes of Izuru-kun. He'd grown up in the Rukongai district after all, and even now he lived in a small apartment with only one room and a tiny bathroom attached, it wasn't like he had much to offer.

Still, when Izuru opened that door his smile at once became genuine . . .

The younger man was dressed adorably in smart-casual wear, with nice smart jeans and a shirt so form fitting that if Gin was a lesser man he was sure his mouth would have been watering by now, and the fact that Izuru had made such an effort made him feel kind of good inside. Usually it was Gin who had to make an effort for people, whether with his uniform for work or the smart suits or formal yukata he had to wear when he lectured for Aizen, so to see someone making an effort for him made him feel special. It was a feeling he could get used to too.

He also adored how the blonde couldn't even bring himself to make eye contact! He was currently eyeing the floor as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, his cheeks blushing crimson even in the night sky, and his lower lip being gnawed to within an inch of its life. Izuru really was the cutest thing! He just made you want to tease him and play with him, kind of like a cat with a mouse, but the only difference was the cat wasn't tempted to screw the mouse afterwards.

Everything about Izuru made him so seductive, the way he stuttered, the way he blushed, the way he was so easy to shock. It kind of made Gin want to both protect him and take him, and most of all it really attracted him to the other, not only knowing he had a power over him but knowing that here was a man who thought of him as no other person did. Everyone had always been terrified of Gin, and even those that weren't still didn't trust him, but Izuru was different! He was nervous around Gin sure, but not because he was scared, but because he felt feelings that scared him and he hadn't felt before. He craved Gin's approval, wanted his company, always smiled when around him and no one had ever felt that way around him before, and it made him feel happy around Izuru in return, knowing he had someone who trusted him and knowing he didn't have to fake a smile unless he wanted to, because no matter what Izuru-kun would always respect him.

"Welcome, Ichimaru-Sensei…"

That voice was just so cute! He had that kicked-puppy look down perfectly, and his tone was like a purring kitten, it just made Gin want to pet him! How could anyone not have an instinct of awe and affection around such an adorable expression, no wonder he had to play games with Izuru and have some fun; he had so many cute, little expressions that it was impossible not to tease him for more!

"My, Izuru-kun," Gin said with a large grin, eyebrows significantly higher as he kept his eyes closed tightly. He leant his head down slightly so the shadows would hit just right, making him seem both a menacing villain and a kindly saviour all at once, "You look so handsome tonight, anyone would think this was a date."

He tilted his head and beamed a huge bright smile at Izuru's reaction.

His head snapped up so quickly his neck actually cricked, and already the blonde's eyes were wide as saucers, his cheeks were so red that Gin was sure he could cook a meal on them and he was mumbling almost incoherently. Perhaps he was just shocked at being called handsome, but Gin couldn't believe that no one had ever called him that before, so maybe it was just the shock of hearing it from Gin? If that was the case his opinion meant more to Izuru-kun than he'd thought! That had to be good! It meant he could have more fun than he'd originally intended, and hopefully get his cute little Izuru to make more of those little noises.

Eventually Izuru tilted his head again and began to play with his hands nervously in his lap, still stuttering intelligibly as he occasionally glanced up to Gin and then gasped and looked down again. He was kind of slouching now too and as much as Gin loved these reactions it was getting late and it was cold out, he'd much rather take their games from the doorstep and inside the house.

"S-S-Sorry, Ichimaru-Sensei!" He eventually stuttered, "I – I never thought it was a d-date, I just wanted to – to . . ."

Ah, now he felt almost guilty. He'd embarrassed his little Izuru and his comment probably confused him too, after all he'd both called him handsome but mocked the idea of a date with him in the same sentence. It seemed a little mean to get his hopes up then knock them down, leaving the poor boy confused entirely, but at the same time it would definitely keep him on his toes!

"I was just teasing, Izuru," Gin beamed, "Though I meant it when I said that ya look handsome." He lifted his briefcase up for mock inspection, with his long, coat sleeve covered his entire hand and the handle, and then nodded behind him along the mile-long driveway to the tiny view of the street where his battered car sat, "I did come all this way though just so I could tutor my favourite pupil, ain't ya gonna let me in?"

"Oh! Of – of course! I'm so sorry, Ichimaru-sensei!"

"Hey now. It's Gin. Remember?"

"Y-Yes . . . Gin."

He waited for Izuru to step aside before strolling in. The moment he set foot into the main hall he toed off his shoes and found himself in awe; true he'd seen a lot of nice places in his time knowing Aizen, but he hadn't ever pictured little Izuru-kun coming from such a similar lifestyle.

Gin had a pretty rough life growing up, always on the streets and always beaten at home, and he knew Rangiku-san was the same, with Ichigo-kun and Abarai-kun also leading rough lives despite their middle-class parents. All four of them had been confident, getting into trouble, fighting authority and generally quite well-liked or well-respected, and thinking about it made it all made sense, because when you lived a tough kind of life you learnt to stick up for yourself. You learnt to be confident because if you weren't you were picked on, and you learnt how to cope with life because if you didn't you'd be suicidal before long, so in that respect it should have made sense why his little Izuru was so different. The little blonde had been raised in a sheltered, closeted environment, probably never had to fight a day in his life and probably never had to go without food or worry if a bill would be paid, no financial stress at all and definitely no bullying growing up. If you thought of it that way it made sense he was so shy, timid and quiet, he never had to learn to be anything but that! Maybe with some luck Gin would rub off on him, make him more confident, he could always hope at least.

Still, the place was pretty nice. You could tell Kira-kun had came off 'old money' because the place wasn't as flashy as what it could have been, it was classy and subtle, not in-your-face or over-the-top. Aizen had pretty similar tastes, having a rich family too, but Gin had been to some homes where the people had started off average and made a name for themselves: the 'new money' types. The houses were almost always white, minimalist with weird abstract art and stuffy accents with crappy food, in contrast he really enjoyed Aizen and Izuru's warm, homely style with wood burning fires, deep and warm colours, and a fair amount of furniture. It made him feel like he'd walked into a home, not a damned hospital, and god he hated the memories of hospitals.

"I set up in the dining room, Gin," Kira was looking to his side with a rather depressing expression, kind of like he was about to break down and cry any second, he was even nursing his left arm with his hand in a nervous gesture, "That's okay isn't it? I – I just thought with the dining table being so large it'd be easiest to work on, and – and there's a very nice view from the windows, and I kind of . . ."

"Yeah, that sounds great! Thanks for being so considerate, Izuru-kun."

He didn't miss the slight twitch of a smile in Izuru's lips or the twinkle in his eyes at the compliment, and it made Gin beam inside to know he'd managed to bring about a rare expression of joy on his pupil's features. He always liked Izuru best when he smiled, even when it was one of those very nervous and unsure ones, he just looked so handsome and youthful in those moments, and not like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Poor little Izuru didn't deserve to feel so negative all the time after all, but he'd soon change that!

"You going to lead the way, Izuru?"

"O-Oh! Yes, of course!"

Izuru quickly scampered along and led the way into a room towards the back of the hall, they walked past the foot of a large winding staircase – one that seemed to Gin a bit more Western than Eastern and had to be some sort of renovation – and then headed through a large archway. Inside was a rather large kitchen, not as large as Aizen's state-of-the-art, Western-styled one of course, but large enough in order to still keep a Japanese feel to it.

It seemed someone in the family was an avid cook, covering the far kitchen wall over spotless wooden work-surfaces were cooking utensils Gin had never even dreamed of, even in all his years doing chores as a kid he'd never came across some of them. The ovens, fridges, all appliances were completely brand-new and modern too but at the same time fitted the rustic, old-fashioned décor and gave the place a perfect blend between old and new. There was also a long counter that separated the working space from the dining area, and at the far end Izuru was right, the view was amazing! The windows were large and very low, so when standing one could see right into the gardens and into a koi pond that would make even Byakuya-san jealous! He hadn't even noticed until he took a closer look, but there was also a very romantic air about the place too, which was kind of cute.

The place was littered with candles that sent rather pretty glows and shadows about the room, and the table was littered with sake and food, most of which seemed home-cooked too. It was kind of obvious that Izuru thought of this as a date, but Gin didn't mind, in fact it made him feel kind of giddy inside, it meant that Izuru liked him a lot more than he thought and it meant that maybe they had a shot at being together! It was a rather hopeful thought, one of which he hoped would lead to something more, something special between them.

Gin placed his briefcase on the table and sat down in one of the wooden chairs. He patted the chair beside him and gave Izuru an open-eyed, slight-smiled expression of kindness and sincerity, one in which he rarely showed anyone except perhaps Rangiku. It seemed to have an immediate effect as right away Kira-kun was sitting beside him, so close their knees touched, sending sparks of electricity throughout both of their bodies. Gin smiled at the contact and carefully shrugged off his coat and hung it behind him on the chair, his clothes were casual compared to Izuru's, merely plain black trousers and a rather large, red sweater to keep him warm in the cold, but it seemed Izuru liked the look somewhat judging by his smile. That was good. Gin would have hated to think he'd disappointed his student or ruined whatever image he had of him.

Opening his briefcase he pulled out a pile of papers and gave a huge beaming smile, handing them over to Izuru with a very sincere expression. Izuru merely blushed wildly and accepted the stack with both hands, nodding his acknowledgement before placing them to one side, trying to ignore the way his heart beat wildly or how his throat seemed dry.

"When ya Japanese teacher told me ya were writing a novel I didn't believe it," Gin said casually, "So I'm glad ya let me read so far! I really liked it! 'I Want to Apologise to You' was an odd title I thought, but when I read the story itself I couldn't think of a better one! You're writing a new chapter each week, yeah? I hope ya let me read the rest! The haikus at the start of each chapter are pretty clever too, I didn't know you had so much talent, I just hope you still like me even when you're rich and famous."

Izuru shot his head up at once, eyes wide and with a sudden burst of confidence that seemed to spring from nowhere: "I'll always like you, Gin! Always!"

As soon as he said it he sank his head into his hands and groaned loudly, wishing the ground would open and swallow him whole. Did – did he really say that? He didn't even want to imagine what Gin would think! He probably saw him as some attention starved boy who was shamelessly in love with his teacher, he probably pitied him or laughed at him, or worse he may even hate him! Here he was wasting his time to tutor a student like Izuru and Izuru had made a fool of himself with candles, food and a blurted out confession. He really didn't know how he was going to live through the humiliation at all; he was mortified, how could he have said something so childish to Gin? If he had to confess himself he could have at least did it in a more dignified way!

"Aw! That's nice of ya, Izuru!" Gin beamed, resting arms on his knees and head into his hands, "I love you too and always will."

It seemed Gin genuinely didn't realise he'd said the word 'love' and not 'like' but it was something Izuru picked up on, and at once he was making eye contact with Gin albeit with his usual shocked expression and a blush. Love? Did he say love? That – that meant he had feelings for Izuru, feelings beyond that of a tutor for his pupil, and that meant that Izuru had a chance, didn't it? He hoped so, because if his heart beat any faster it'd surely explode! He was already feeling light-headed, weak and dizzy and he wasn't sure how much more he could take, and they'd only just started!

"I really liked the plot too," Gin continued.

For once failing to notice the subtle changes in another human being, and the only explanation Izuru could think of was because he really was in love, and everyone knew it was hard to see things as they really were in the person you had feelings for.

"You – you did?"

"Sure! It was a bit depressing at times, but that's what makes a good drama, ya know? If even I can feel sorry for the characters it shows they have to be well written, don't it! I do worry perhaps you based it a bit on real life, and if you have I feel bad, because the main character does a lot of bad things to himself and he's always upset, I don't want my Izuru-kun to feel bad too. I liked the little bit with the girls too, when one tried to eat the dried persimmon but it was really dried sweet potato and she felt ill, it made me laugh because I did that once as a kid too!" Gin gave a slight nervous laugh and then sat back in his chair, "Ja, I'm sorry, I'm not too bright with languages or literature, but I did like it!"

Izuru gave a sincere smile, "Thank you, Gin."

It was hard to know how to continue. There was kind of a tension in the air that Kira wasn't used to, not that it was necessarily bad, but it was uncertain and fragile and he didn't want to say anything lest he break the moment. Inside he felt incredibly warm and proud, already hearing an unconscious declaration of love and being given such kind compliments, it made his heart swell to know that Gin thought so highly of him and – most of all – loved him too. It was probably because of that he was unsure what to do next . . . He didn't want to say anything stupid like he'd done a few moments ago with 'I'll always like you!' but he didn't want to say anything too serious either, after all they weren't even dating yet so worrying what Renji, Momo or his parents would think was ridiculous! Of course, that was even assuming Gin wanted to date him anyway, after all he was still a student and a very shy, quiet one at that, one that couldn't even excel in any classes save Japanese, English and history . . .

Still, if there was ever a moment where he needed to be optimistic, then this was it! Gin was constantly teasing him, always paying attention to him, even offering to home-tutor him and tonight he'd even said 'I love you too'! Surely that all meant Gin had feelings for him? It had to. So – so all Kira had to do was act on it, make it clear he was open to whatever would happen between them, make it obvious that he really, really liked Gin . . . even if it was already pretty obvious as it was. He wished he could be bold like Renji and just ask the guy out, or even shameless like Rangiku-san who'd practically flash and flirt with anyone she liked, or even as confident as Hisagi-sempai who never cared what anyone thought, just dating the people he liked and loved. The problem was he wasn't anyone else, he was simply himself, sitting in an awkward silence as Gin began to shift through his papers and documents, ready to begin a lesson. If he wanted a date, not a tutoring session, then he'd have to act soon!

Maybe – Maybe he could ask Gin if he would like a drink . . .? No, that wasn't really sensible, after all Kira always let loose after a few drinks and lost all sense of personal space, modesty and common sense. He'd already humiliated himself that evening when Gin came to the bar where he sat with Renji and Ikkaku, after two more drinks he'd been convinced by Rangiku to get half-naked, and after a few more he'd been antagonising Renji to start a fight despite not being able to stand properly! He couldn't let Gin see him like that again; it'd be too humiliating! Unless . . . maybe he could pour himself small amounts but Gin large ones? No, that wouldn't do, if Gin had any sense of manners – which he probably did – he'd be the one to pour Kira a drink. Well, what if he only pretended to sip and drink, whilst Gin really did? That could work to, right? No, no Gin would surely click in to what was going on after a while.

The moment he heard the briefcase close, and saw the history books and the graded essay he'd handed in, he visibly jumped and quickly spat out rather loudly and much too quickly: "Would you like a drink, Gin?"

"Huh?" Gin looked at him curiously for a minute, surprised at Kira's sudden and almost random outburst, "Sure! I don't really like sad stories and that story of yours sure was sad, much as I liked it of course, so a drink would really cheer me up."

"S-Sure."

He reached over for the sake bottle and a couple of cups; he carefully poured a large amount into Gin's cup, he really hadn't meant to pour so much but he'd just been so nervous and his hand had slipped! At – at least it meant the drink would last longer, right? Unless Gin drank pretty quickly, but then that would mean he'd be drunk sooner too, and then Kira would no way be able to act on his feelings, because . . . because then it'd be like taking advantage. Ah! Not that he'd planned to – to – to do anything with Gin, of course not, but wasn't it normal to have thoughts about those sorts of things? Although Gin probably wouldn't want to sober or not, or at least not with Kira and -. Kira groaned to himself and quickly placed the bottle away. Hopefully he could fix this . . .

"I'm sorry, Gin," He said looking bashfully at the floor, "I poured too much."

"Nah, it's fine, Izuru-kun!" He said taking a long sip, "But with ya giving me so much and ya not even pouring yourself any, it kind of makes me wonder." He suddenly frowned, his eyes narrowing and lips pouting, it was his most serious and offended face he could muster . . . even if inside he was actually laughing! "You wouldn't be trying to get ya teacher drunk to take advantage of him now, would ya?"

"W-W-W-What? No! I mean, of course not! I just – I – I didn't mean to-!"

"Aw, now that's too bad."

Kira swallowed loudly, his cheeks going bright red for the thousandth time this minute, and his eyes shimmering with water as he tried to fight back his mortifying feelings. When he looked at Gin this time the man seemed somewhat disappointed, his lips were still pouting and full but his gaze had lowered and his eyes seemed slightly heavier and longer. He – he felt so confused! Just seconds ago Gin had seemed very offended at the thought of being taken advantage of, and now he seemed so disappointed that he wasn't!

It was kind of like he was playing another game, and – as much as he loved and admired Gin – he hated these games . . . Gin seemed to adore playing with people's emotions, in particular Kira's and his loyalty and love towards his sensei, but he'd particularly enjoy playing emotional games with Rukia too, and sometimes with Momo's kid cousin Toshiro, who was too young not to get pulled into such manipulation. Right then he didn't know where he stood, what Gin really felt, what to even expect, it was like standing on thin ice! Was Gin upset or wasn't he? If he could just understand the other man, what he wanted, it'd be so much easier! Then again . . . if anyone actually ever understood Gin he wouldn't be the Gin he knew and loved, because it was that mysteriousness about him that was part of his charm.

He was frowning now, worried with heart beating a hundred miles an hour and body so hot he felt like passing out any second, it was just too terrifying to think that because of his stupid accident he may have scared Gin away!

When he felt cold fingertips touch his cheek he literally jumped in his chair, his head jolting upwards to see Gin smiling warmly at him with eyes wide, red and burning with interest and compassion. His face was warm, friendly and so sincere in its expression that Kira's heart melted at the sight, and as his fingers pressed against his smooth cheek Kira couldn't help but nuzzle into his palm, half-closing his eyes in relief and love. Gin's skin felt supple, youthful but slightly calloused and hard, like he'd spent a lifetime doing physical work, and yet his touch sent electric shivers down Kira's spine, setting his blood on fire and making him relish the touch. He felt connected to the man he loved, like he was becoming a part of him through that one small gesture alone, and he felt relieved, secure, safe. It was a kindly, loving gesture and he felt sure he could lose himself in the moment.

"Now Izuru-kun, you shouldn't have gone to all the trouble of cooking, ya know?" Gin said cheerfully, leaning forward in his seat so that he was getting closer and closer to Izuru, "I don't really eat much, and there's only one dessert I really want to lick at."

He found himself gasping and shivering at the sight of Gin leaning ever closer, his lips pressing together warm, full and plump and his body relaxing as it leant ever closer to Izuru. One of Gin's hands was placed mid-thigh and holding him gently, but firm enough to arouse his interest, and his other hand was still holding his cheek, with his thumb lightly stroking his skin. The problem was if this was yet another joke, just one more game, then Kira was going to cry and he certainly couldn't take much more! So – with a quick and fast movement – he grabbed for his manuscript beside him and yanked it up, shoving it between himself and Gin as a makeshift barrier, and causing Gin's lips to press hard against the white pages of 'I Want to Apologise to You', probably a fitting title considering what he'd just done . . .

"I-I-I-I'm so sorry, Gin!" Kira said clutching hard to the paper even as he reluctantly put it back down on the table, his eyes were scrunched shut and his lips trembling, "It's just if you were to pull away this time I – I – I don't think I'd cope! I really like you, Sensei. Please don't tease me anymore. Not tonight at least, not when we're finally alone together like this."

"Who says I was gonna pull away?"

"W-what?"

Gin gave a bright smile: "But if ya don't want me to . . ."

He watched with glee as Kira's expression faltered somewhat and his eyes widened in horror, he looked like he'd just been told he'd missed his chance, somewhat heartbroken and horrified at the same time. It was completely adorable and reminded Gin so much of just why he loved Izuru! He adored how the younger man completely hung on his every word, how he lived to make Gin happy, how he genuinely cared what the silver-haired man thought of him, and most of all he simply loved that someone actually loved him for him. It was a nice feeling and he wanted Izuru to feel the same way back, he wanted Izuru to feel loved too. Screw what Aizen said, he didn't understand these feelings or what they meant, and if the worst did happen he was sure he could twist things enough so Aizen would still support him anyway.

"Poor Izuru," He said softly, "Ya still can't tell when I'm joking, can ya? I'm gonna be serious with ya then, I really like ya, in fact I probably love ya, and as tempting as it is to pretend to kiss ya and pull back . . . I ain't gonna. I wanna kiss ya for real."

"Gin?"

Gin merely smiled in response, his silver hair falling slightly to cover his open eyes and his expression almost serene, even if it did hold a somewhat sharp undertone. Kira noted how Gin's accent had become all the more obvious, kind of like he was nervous himself, and judging by the slight pink tinge to his cheeks it was possible that maybe he was.

Kira barely had time to think before Gin gracefully slid out of his chair and wrapped his arms around Kira's neck, his elbows resting on the blonde's shoulders as his hands hooked together in an elegant pose. He moved his legs carefully and sat down quite firmly on Kira's lap, his legs straddling the chair and his chest pushed firmly against his – hopefully – soon-to-be lover's. The position was intimate, warm and gave them a chance to for the first time ever fully appreciate the closeness of one another, each one relishing in the firm body pressed against them, and the feel of a loved one breathing in time with their own breaths. Then – as Izuru finally worked up the courage to wrap his arms around that thin waist, and place his hands firmly upon that hard back – Gin leant down and kissed him.

The kiss came as a complete shock to him. The fact he had Gin straddling him on his lap was arousing enough, shocking enough too, but to feel those soft lips touching his was something else altogether. It made him at once harden and grind up, feeling kind of childish for his lack of experience and ability to be so easily turned on, and he couldn't help from holding tightly onto Gin and pulling him close.

He couldn't believe how innocent, how soft, how delicate Gin's kiss was, his lips barely moving against his own and his breath only softly grazing his own mouth, and it made him wonder just where his usually outspoken, sarcastic, overly-confident sensei had gone. It was as if he were suddenly making out with a guy with as little-to-no experience as he had, or someone even more virginal if that was possible, and it was surprising but also . . . nice. It was sweet. They kissed that way for what seemed a long time before Gin worked up the courage to deepen it, and when he did Kira swore he could see fireworks behind his eyelids.

It was amazing! It was his first kiss and almost perfect; he could feel Gin's rough, hot tongue sliding into his mouth, exploring his waiting cavern with an eagerness and hunger he hadn't imagined, tasting every inch and running the tip of his tongue over every part of him, teeth, cheeks, tongue . . . It was needy, hot, passionate, and he could feel Gin grinding against him as he began to reciprocate the kiss, his hand sliding up to cup Gin's head and hold onto those silky locks of hair. It felt almost as if it was Gin's first kiss too, but that couldn't be right! Surely sensei had kissed many, many people. He was twenty-four now and so handsome Kira could barely believe his luck in finding a partner like this, he just couldn't bring himself to believe his love could be as inexperienced as he was.

The only thing he could fault as the nauseating taste of persimmon in his lover's mouth, and how in their desperation their teeth would occasionally clash or the kiss would get too wet. Yet it felt so amazing he was sure he could keep it up for hours at an end and never tire of it! He suddenly found himself blushing and nervous, realising he wanted to explore the man's body and take things further, even though they'd only just confessed their feelings and began a relationship. Could – could he seriously consider sex when they'd only just shared a first kiss? That would be ridiculous, surely? They'd be moving way too fast! Yet they'd known each other for so long, loved from afar, desired each other with a consuming passion and Kira had even saved himself for someone as special as this, not knowing that – as far as kisses were concerned – Gin had done the same.

When Gin broke the kiss he found himself suddenly remembering what was going on, and his cheeks were once again on fire, his heart pounding so hard it hurt, and his pulse echoed in his ears. Oh God! What would happen when they had to face each other tomorrow at school? How would Rangiku act when he told her, and what about Renji? Renji would flip out! Oh, and his parents . . . his aunt and uncle had adopted him when he was orphaned as a child, they'd taken him in and given him allowances despite having a huge trust fund and inheritance, and they'd be devastated surely? Would they love him unconditionally, would they try to get Gin fired, or would they be accepting?

"Huh, ya thinking too hard, Izuru, it'll give ya wrinkles."

"Pardon?"

"Ya need to stop thinking so hard!" Gin beamed brightly, closing his eyes once again as he jumped off the chair and offered Kira his hand, pulling him up onto his feet and then into a huge hug. He placed a chaste kiss onto his lover's head and breathed in the scent of strawberry shampoo on the blonde hair, "I tell ya what, why don't we go to the bedroom? I'm sure I can help to clear ya mind in there."

"G-Gin!"

The silver-haired man laughed. How was it even after a mind-blowing kiss that his little lover could be so innocent, naïve and act like a blushing virgin? It was totally adorable! He'd have to be sure to remember the little details to annoy Kaname later on, he was damned sure Komamura didn't blush and it'd be funny to see Kaname get so worked up on how their relationship was unethical, and if Kira was better in bed than Kaname he could maybe work in some 'tips' and really piss Kaname off! Still, he had to get his little Izuru-kun to bed first and that was only if all that blood going to his cheeks didn't make him pass out first . . . Still, how cute!

"Ya so cute when ya all shy and embarrassed, makes me wonder how we'll manage to even do it!" Gin smiled brightly and began to blow out the candles, it wouldn't do to have the place burn down mid-consummation after all, "I know what might make you less nervous! You can be the pitcher, I'll be the catcher, what ya say?"

Aw, poor Izuru looked like he was really going to die from discomfort this time! It made Gin smile to see him look ready to have a heart attack at being told he could top, as if the thought never crossed his mind at all . . .

Something told Gin this was going to be a lot of fun!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Warnings: Explicit yaoi

Chapter Eight, by Ray

Not every man could say, hand on their heart, that they were screwing their childhood idol. Despite the lack of interest in sexuality at ten-years-old, every boy had some sort of woman he was obsessed with for reasons unknown to him. It ranged from peeking up the skirt of the Barbie, belonging to his sister, Wonder Woman, or underwear mannequins in a department store. It is most acceptable for a young man to be obsessed with someone or something. Of course the whole sexuality thing doesn't kick in until the boy is twelve or into his teens (a late bloomer). Sometimes the fascination with the underwear mannequin isn't regarded as a crush until the sexuality element kicks in during the teens and a boy is forced to face the fact that his first crush was on an inanimate object (lace panties or not).

Shuhei Hisagi had a few first loves during his childhood. Growing up in a children's home, he'd been of the daring older boys who'd dare approach a grown-up man and ask him to purchase a dirty magazine for him with his allowance. He and the two other boys his age (his cronies) used to sit around in their tree house and flick through the magazine. Had they been maybe four years older, they might have taken turns to have 'alone time' with the magazine (which would probably end up rather sticky in the end), but at eight or nine, they'd just stared in mild adoration at the photo's of breasts and spread thighs.

Another first love was found in the woman who lived across the road. She would be in her late thirties now, but at the time, she was in her late teens. Her name was Kukaku Shiba, she and her family only lived across the street from them for a few months before they moved again, but those months were the best of his young life! There hadn't been a challenge like sneaking onto the Shiba Family's yard, climbing up the tree which faced Kukaku Shiba's bedroom and peering in at her. Of course, did she catch you, you were a dead man. But if she didn't, you got to live to dream of her tight underwear, her heaving bosom, luscious cleavage… Shuhei was never caught, but one of his cronies was (Yama), not by Kukaku herself, but by her brother, the elder brother, Kaien, who was possibly the nicest man in the world. He'd ruffled Yama's hair, and told him if he ever caught him out there again, then he'd take him upstairs to tell his sister exactly what he'd caught him doing. But he didn't tell the old man who ran the children's home, and he certainly didn't tell Kukaku.

Finally, his deepest obsession was found in a man. Until he was about sixteen, he hadn't thought of it as anything more than admiration. The man's name was Kensei Muguruma, he was pretty much everything Shuhei dreamed of becoming as an adult. He was strong, self-confident, powerful and respected. Muguruma-san had saved his life when he was a child. He was about nine-years-old, when a man in a suit had snatched Yama's spray can, Shuhei, being a bold little snot, had started cat-calling abuse at him… The suited man unfortunately was some sort of head-case gangster, who pulled Shuhei into an alleyway and started trying to strangle him. Muguruma-san had spotted the scene as he left a bar, and had rescued him. Of course afterwards, Shuhei was unable to display his thanks; the shock had him bawling his eyes out like a baby… though he tried to cut that part out of his pleasant little flashback.

From that day a deep-routed adoration and obsession was born. He'd followed the man around, trying to make it up to him. He wanted to be just like Muguruma-san, who tolerated him out of… well, it was probably amusement. He remembered being completely crushed when the older man travelled over seas with Vizard Media. He remembered days, of being ten years old, and lying flat on his back in his bedroom, pining like a lost puppy.

To skip from that moment, gazing out of the bedroom window and wondering when he'd see his childhood idol again, to where he was now… it seemed a little… To be honest, he'd begun to think of himself as incredibly blessed, if a little warped.

Shuhei Hisagi was panting hard as he felt a roughened hand slide up his sweaty chest, fingers closing around a pert nipple. He gasped and leant his head back a little as the other man tweaked at it almost tauntingly. Shuhei was aware of his hands clasping onto the bedpost for support, his head moving from its place leaning against the wall. He was on his knees, slightly bent over with his legs spread; he couldn't focus on much right now, barely aware of his senses. The room had the strangely familiar smell of rough love making, his hazed vision on the wall in front of him, in his ear he could hear the grunts and panting of his lover, mixed with his own whimpers and gasps, he could feel the dirtied sheets beneath him, the stickiness between his thighs, and most of all, the deep burying pleasure in his entrance as his lover ground inches away from his prostate almost tauntingly. Shuhei let out another moan as he felt his lover's tongue sliding across the back of his neck, to his earlobe, which he took between his teeth and nibbled.

"Mm, you like that, Shuhei?" Kensei growled; lowering his other hand to rub him smoothly, his grip was firm, showing off every bit of power he had over the younger boy. "You like me playing with your pretty little nipples, don't ya, ya little slut?"

He couldn't help but arch into the touch, it was almost too much for him. He'd been told, by Kensei, that he was very vocal in bed, but that knowledge had made him self conscious about it. He was only ever self-conscious about two people, one was the man buried inside him at the moment, and the other was a certain busty barmaid who never failed to take his breath away…

"Come on, what did I tell ya 'bout being quiet?" he bit his shoulder a little roughly, changing the position of his hands, one settled on his hip, the other fastened around his chest as he increased the crippling speed of his thrusts. He could feel the harsh impact of Kensei's hips smacking against his backside, the slap of his ball sack on his skin.

Shuhei yelled out, unable to hold back his cries as he felt Kensei crash against that spot which made him see stars; it was an automatic reaction to grind his own hips back against the powerful thrusts, arch his back and cry out for more, more of this! That was how Kensei made him feel; desperate and hungry for more. Not just when they were like this, in every aspect of their life together. He made him expand upon his limits until nothing shackled him. Unless you were opposed to homo sex, then it'd be safe for him to say that the older man brought out the best in him.

"Come on, you wanna cum, don't ya?"

Kensei was breathing harder, he must be getting close; Shuhei yelped as he felt the other picked up the pace, he went to lower his head, to press it against the wall so he was more bent over. The harsh slapping noise was getting louder and louder – his teeth were clenched together, tears streaming down the sides of his face, pale cheeks flushed dark pink in pleasure. The tattooed male cried out as he felt Kensei's hand suddenly grip into his thick dark hair and yank back his head from the wall.

His lover chuckled darkly into his ear, despite his breathlessness, he licked along the shell of his ear, sucking on his neck, "Little Shuhei," he purred, "You want to cum, you're gonna have to beg – Aahh!" he grunted hard as Shuhei clenched around his throbbing length tauntingly. A familiar spark flickered into the silver haired man's eyes; he bit down harshly on his shoulder, "You tryin' t' tease me, Shuhei?" he stopped his thrusts, half to work towards goading the boy into begging, and half because if he kept thrusting while Shuhei was constricting like that, he was so painfully sure he'd cum. "Get your hands up!" he snarled, spanking the back of his thigh hard, "Right up against the wall," he hummed to himself as he watched his arms raise, shaking a little from the pleasure dancing through his body, begging Kensei to spark it off into that blissful place… Shuhei placed his hands shoulder length apart on the wall; he was breathing hard, his eyes on the bed below him.

It was too hot when the boy would take charge like that, or at least tried too. Shuhei Hisagi was approachably good looking, he was charming in his mannerisms (so much so it was easy for Kensei to get a little jealous), and he was pretty sexy too… When they'd started seeing each other, Shuhei had tried to imply he was so grown-up now. Brats come out of university thinking they're so grown-up… He could remember his words like it was yesterday, 'You don't have to look out for me anymore, Muguruma-san; I'm an adult now.' The younger man had tried to insist when they began to get… intimate; that he had a lot of experience, but it became evident fast that it was just talk. But now, after four months, Shuhei had the experience, he knew all sorts of ways to drive Kensei insane; he never thought he'd be the sort of man to fall so easily for the touches and whispers of someone nearly twenty-years his junior. It was cute if anything… And it did seem strange that this was the same child who'd irritatingly followed him around, dangling from his every word… now in his early twenties, Kensei's tattoo on his cheek, inked up, and so handsome. He wasn't sure when he stopped thinking of the damn kid as a damn kid into a potential bedmate. He knew there was a time he didn't and a time he did. But the line between them was almost indistinguishable. He'd always been… aggressive in bed, or so he'd been told, but this… boy, had him wanting to do things he hadn't since he was an unemployed tough guy for a gang putting his seductive energies into trying to woo different barmaids.

Kensei purred a little into Shuhei's ear, "Now, you wanna cum, Shuhei Hisagi, you beg me for it, you work for it," he whispered, sucking on his neck, "and you wanna cum, don't ya? You made such pretty sounds yesterday mornin'…"

The dark haired male began to pant louder. He couldn't take it. It was a rare thing, even when he loved it, for him to loose all self-control, but Kensei Muguruma tipped him over the edge, transforming him from a calm and distinguished young man, into a moaning, writhing deviant. He could only imagine the look on his face, flushed cheeks, his eyes half lidded and glazed over with lust.

"P-P-Please – Please, Kensei! Kensei, let me cum – make me cum –!" He barely recognized his own voice, so consumed with pleasure, aching with need and longing… "Make me scream – Fuck! Fuck – Kensei!"

It was difficult for a man like him to lose himself like this, but the pounding of his heart, that unbearably good sensation spinning round his body, telling him that soon unimaginable pleasure would come him. Oh God – he didn't want to stop!

And he did scream, he threw back his head and screamed out as Kensei picked up his old pace, grasping his hips and pushing in and out, back and forth, stretching his inner walls and sliding against his prostate. Shuhei could feel the satisfied and longing in his lover's moans into his ear.

"Y-You're damn good for me, Shu," he grunted, clenching his teeth closed to suppress his own cries. A roughened hand reached down and clasped onto the younger male's aching member, leaking with sticky white droplets of pre-come. Kensei moaned into his ear, feeling the long firm erection twitch a little in his hand at the sound, he began to stroke him roughly, pushing his hand from the thick base, just above his balls, to the leaking head, stood to attention against his stomach.

It was too much, and Shuhei could feel it, he could feel it burning inside him, he couldn't see, it was like his vision had been consumed with a blinding white light – he had to close his eyes, and scream out the name of the man giving this to him – and Oh God – could he give it to him? Shuhei sobbed out in bliss, his orgasm racking through his veins like a deliciously addictive drug, coming to his release and ramming down his hips against Kensei on sheer impulse.

In the back of his head, he could hear Kensei panting and moaning out, getting closer and closer, until he grunted loudly, his head bowed against Shuhei's arched back as he exploded inside his lover. Shuhei could feel him fill him, he could feel his hot seed aching inside him, sliding down his thighs, yet all he could do was pant and press his sweaty forehead to the wall, his arms lowered slightly against the pillows, listening his heart beat, and Kensei's beating against his back.

This was one of those moments were he thanked his lucky stars for taking Izuru seriously when the blonde said 'You need to study now, sempai', instead of goofing off with Iba in bars.

***

Jushiro hadn't been to hospital in a while when it was about someone else. So it was sort of nice to sit in the waiting room, humming to himself and glancing around at the others there. It could be so depressed to sit here, wondering when the Doctor would see you… wondering how serious the situation was, what had this blood test revealed about your increasing poor health? Not today! And although he was very worried, he couldn't hold off the feeling that he was happy to be sitting here as an observer and friend, rather than as a patient himself.

The white-haired male glanced out of the window. He liked the hospital gardens… when he'd been here for three months he had a room on the fourth floor, it had the most spectacular view out of the window. In the gardens of the hospital they had a row of sakura trees, a reassuring sight when you're at Deaths Door. He remembered thinking that if he were to die alone while the doctors and nurses were gone, and Shunsui was at work, then he was lucky to have that view as his last sight…

"Hey, Jushiro, please don't look so depressed," Shunsui murmured in a small voice, "I'm sorry I dragged you here."

"Oh no, I'm not depressed," he smiled gently at his lover, putting a hand on his knee for reassurance. "It just feels a little strange being here for someone else."

It was a little silly actually, the reason why they were there. Shunsui had been messing around in the kitchen, while Nanao was out buying Jushiro his paper (she'd insisted). Anyway, he had, through no fault of his own, set the dinner on fire, and the long sleeve of his yukata… Nanao returned to find their kitchen alight and her boss very distressed (I mean you can't fall, duck and roll in your own kitchen). Nanao being the sensible sort of person, put out the fire (Jushiro was sleeping in the next room and napped right through this), only for Shunsui to attempt to throw his arms around her in relief, and in leaping away from him, she'd broken her wrist on the counter-top. Jushiro had been woken to Shunsui running into the room, holding his screaming (for him to put her down) secretary bridal style, his eyes horrified, asking if Jushiro would come with him to A&E for Nanao-chan.

So here they were.

Shunsui wrapped an arm around his shoulder and kissed his soft white hair tenderly, "Count your blessings then," he whispered in a low voice.

"Are you ready for class tomorrow?" Jushiro asked, peering up at his face. Ever since their talk last night, he'd been eager to keep things as happy and positive as they could. Even if it was avoiding the issue, he didn't want to talk about his remaining time; he didn't want to talk about death.

The dark haired male blinked, and then smacked himself in the forehead, groaning, "I do believe I had essays to mark."

Jushiro laughed a little, "How about when we get home I mark half of them? I've missed marking," he admitted, "I really have."

It was one of the worst things about being sick; he'd had to give up teaching. And he'd loved being a teacher, he loved guiding young minds into their future, he liked being there for his students when they needed him, he liked seeing the joy on their faces come results day. He liked being recognized by former students six years after he'd taught them, to see how they were getting on. It was an honour to have made your mark on a young person's life.

"You've missed marking?" Shunsui laughed loudly, "You're mad, Jushiro, I've always said it," he stroked his arm gently. Turning to attention as a nurse began to make her way towards them.

"Shunsui Kyoraku-san?" the young woman asked, holding her clipboard in front of her. Jushiro pretended he didn't notice the way Shunsui's eyes travelled along the young woman's slender form, she had nice legs, slim, curvy thighs… and such a short skirt. It was easy to see why Shunsui was undressing her with his eyes, maybe imagining her playing doctor with him. It made him feel bitter, a tiny part in him, the only part, was unable to understand that it was just Shunsui's nature.

"Yes, that's me," he smiled brightly at her, rising to his feet, though he kept a hold of Jushiro's arm, as his white haired lover rose with him.

"Your secretary is just fine," the nurse said, glancing down at her clip board, "We've bandaged her wrist and we're just filling out some forms. Miss Ise will be with you in just a moment."

He bowed his head politely, "Thank-you for taking such good care of Nanao-chan."

Jushiro smiled at the woman, he noticed how she was staring at them a little confused. It probably did look confusing; Shunsui and him gave off every sign of being a couple, they were like a married couple without the wedding and title… But Shunsui often talked about Nanao as if she were his girlfriend or wife. In there time, people had nervously asked if Nanao was a surrogate mother, if the three of them had a weird threesome going on, or if Jushiro was 'sure Shunsui wasn't a little too… friendly with his secretary'.

"Not a problem, sir," the girl bowed and turned to hurry back off behind the ward.

Shunsui smiled relieved, "You know, I met Nanao when she was eight years old? Lisa-chan brought her round one day. She thought I was an idiot then too," he chuckled to himself. "She's going to hit me with her good arm when she comes out."

"Only you could avoid a fire, and injure someone in five minutes," Jushiro laughed, elbowing him playfully, "I'm just glad Nanao-san is alright."

A few moments later Nanao returned to them, wearing a white bandaged cast on her wrist, glowering at Shunsui, she bowed politely to Jushiro, "I'm sorry for the trouble," she said, nodding her head, "I could have taken myself here, Ukitake-san."

"Nonsense," he laughed, "is your wrist going to be alright?"

"Yes. It should heal up in a few days," she flexed it, wincing a little, "I called Lisa-san, she said she'd come and pick me up, the two of us had lunch plans so there's no need for me to hinder your day."

"It's no hindrance at all, just take it easy," he patted her gently on the shoulder. "Enjoy your lunch."

She smiled back, brushing her hair out of her face, "Thank-you, Ukitake-san," she turned and shot Shunsui one of her looks, "As for you, you… remember to mark those essays!"

As the two men left the hospital, Shunsui whispered in a small teasing voice, "I think she's mad at me."

***

Izuru flushed a little, he was stood in front of his locker, gazing at his reflection. It must be true about what people said about sex being good for the skin… for some reason he didn't look quite as pale today. He also noticed that he couldn't quite get that smile off his face. Last night had been the best night of his life so far; he'd woken up this morning feeling excited instead of nervous and edgy.

To be fair he'd woken to his Sensei, Ichimaru-Sensei, Ichimaru Gin, Gin, sleeping beside him, bony arms wrapped around Izuru's head, listening to the soft beat of his heart. It was everything he'd dreamed it would be. His lips tingled for more of those tender kisses, those pale long fingered hands running along his back, teasing his chest, stroking down every inch of his body. He'd felt exposed without his clothes, naïve and stupid… but Gin had brought him into a state where he had forgotten his natural self-consciousness and didn't try and hide his moans or cover his nudity. Last night was the best night of his life so far!

Lowering the collar of his shirt, the blonde boy blushed a little as his gaze fell upon a dark purple hickey blossoming just below the cut of his shirt. Gin had been just as passionate as him, instructing too, as Izuru's closest experience to real life sex was a little… ridiculous (he'd fallen asleep on a bed at a party and woken in the middle of the night to Hisagi-sempai nailing some girl in the bed beside his, though in honesty, Izuru had embarrassedly hidden under the blankets with his hands over his ears, only peeking to look once). Though he was sure he couldn't be right, it seemed like Ichimaru-Sensei… Gin, didn't have a lot of experience either… More than ever before, he couldn't wait to get to class, his heart beating away in his chest like a drum, he saw the colour rising in his cheeks in his reflection and had to cover his face in a vain attempt to calm down.

"Hey, Izuru," a hand smacked him on the back of his head, making him stumble a little, and the blonde spun around to see Renji grinning down at him.

"Ow," he rubbed his head irritably, "Good morning, Renji," Izuru smiled brightly at his friend. Even Renji roughening him up couldn't bother him today.

"Jeez," the redhead whistled, leaning in to inspect him closer, he turned Izuru's head a little, taking a hold of his chin to look at his ears.

Izuru gasped and attempted to push him off, "What? What is it?"

Renji shook his head, still smirking from ear to ear, "Since when are you so cheerful? And it's Monday morning? Are you Izuru Kira or some sort of alien who hasn't bothered to study his behaviour before probing him? If so, Izuru is always miserable," he teased, ruffling his soft blonde hair, laughing loudly.

"Oh very funny," he rolled his eyes, straightening himself up and turning back to the mirror just to make sure his shirt covered the love bites… It was a good thing he didn't have P.E until tomorrow, he could do something about them tonight. Or just change in the toilets and wear tracksuit bottoms instead of shorts on Tuesday? It was manageable; nothing was going to bother him today.

"I am curious though," he admitted, "What's gotten you so happy?" Renji moved to his own locker, opening it up and wincing at the mess it was in. It was filled with scrap paper… sweaty gym clothes, some of Jinta's comic books (he'd stolen them to be mean), and on the door was a photograph of him, Rukia and Ichigo from a photo booth. His locker had… character, or that's what he'd argue ever time a staff member tried to tell him off for it. It was a real contrast to Izuru's (which had all of his folders neatly staked, his timetable stuck to the mirror, there was a photo booth photograph of Izuru, Renji, Momo and Hisagi-sempai when they were all in middle school together), and more so to Momo (also a bit of an organization freak when it came to her folders, however she had blue-tacked photo's all over hers, most of kittens, herself and her little cousin, herself and Rukia wearing traditional kimono's, and rather a few of a man called Sosuke Aizen (whom she adored)). Ikkaku's locker would be as bad as Renji's, if he made any effort to keep up with his schoolwork.

"I erm, had a good nights sleep last night, I guess," Izuru mumbled, taking out one of his books from the orange folder and slipping it into his bag, "That and it's a lovely day. I don't always have to be miserable."

Renji shrugged, "I guess not. So, you, erm, had a good weekend?"

"Actually, yes, I saw Hisagi-sempai briefly," he brightened up a little in that memory. Renji wouldn't be annoyed or anything if he told him that he'd seen Hisagi-sempai with a man, who looked like they were… boyfriends or something; but he felt it was something the older boy would tell him in person, so Izuru left it out.

"Wow, really," Renji laughed, looking happier at the mention of their sempai; "Ever since he got that job at Vizard we never see even an inch of him! You're like a bird spotter, Izuru!"

Izuru laughed, swinging his bag over his shoulder, "He said he'd be up for going drinking with us some time soon?"

"Aw, that'd be awesome. I've missed having him around," he picked up his backpack, testing the weight a little. He hadn't remembered to take out his English books, and he couldn't fit them in his locker, which meant he'd be going around with a really heavy bag… It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, because Ikkaku was looking buffer than him these days, and Renji certainly didn't want to look as weedy as Izuru, so carrying around something heavy would be good for him… but it was a pain in the ass no less.

The blonde brushed back his hair, "Come on, slowpoke, we have to get to class!"

"You're too eager to get to that tyrant's class! Don't you remember what he did to my pants? And my free time – and yours, for that matter…" he rubbed his chin, "Wasn't he meant to be at yours for that, tutoring thing?"

Damn… he was hoping to avoid this whole area. He was going to have to put off a lot of obvious 'we spent the whole night making love' kind of aura he was prone to give out… Renji finding out would be a HUGE mistake!

"Erm, yeah," he shrugged, "It's not too bad, you hate him, but he's a good teacher," he shuffled his feet nervously; "I'm pretty ahead with my studies now, I've finished all the stuff on the American West."

Renji groaned, "Urgh, I still haven't done that damn essay!" He straightened up, "It's fair enough, I guess. I also wouldn't want Ichimaru-Sensei in my house," he shuddered, "Bet you liked it though – bet you made him a cute little dinner and dressed in a kimono to try and seduce him," the redhead teased him, wriggling his hips tauntingly.

Now his face did go red – how almost close to the truth that was… Renji would be a great detective one day if he weren't such an idiot.

"Hey, Izuru," he teased, "Let me guess, you're all covered with love bites from Sensei," he was joking, but if he only knew how close he was too the truth! If Renji saw them, then it'd all be over. He wouldn't be able to pass them off as having barged into something stupid… because he remembered Renji dating Yumichika… the two of them must have had a fetish for it or something because they were both covered.

"Don't be gross," he said curtly, brushing past him as he made his way up to the classroom, almost begging that someone would appear to distract Renji from his sudden interest in his weekend.

Luckily this fortune came in the form of Ichigo, whom Renji leapt onto. Ichigo cried out in horror and Renji dangled from his shoulders, his feet scraping across the floor, hanging off him, almost making the orange haired boy fall from the strain of taking Renji's weight.

"Hey, good morning, Ichigo!" he grinned in a singsong voice into his ear, nipping at it teasingly. Ichigo retorted in a rather well deserved elbow to the chest, causing Renji to grunt and land face-first on the ground.

"Jesus Christ, Renji, how many times do I have to tell you? I don't like you climbing all over me! I'm not a damn climbing frame!" There was a flush on his cheeks, telling both Renji and Izuru (who was watching nervously from the foot of the stairs) he had something to hide.

Renji rolled his eyes, brushing back his hair, "You told me, Ichigo, I just don't remember listening," he stuck out his tongue, stretching out, "So, did you do the homework or were you too busy doing something else?" he rocked his hips in a humping motion.

Ichigo coloured up pink, clashing horribly with his hair, his eyes narrowed angrily, and Izuru tried hard not to blush with him. "What's that supposed to mean, ya moron!"

He began walking ahead towards the classroom, glancing over his shoulder at Ichigo, winking at him to try and rile the other boy, "Oh I'm sure you can guess… How is Grimmjow-san this morning?" He emphasised the syllables on the blue-haired man's name, his smile spreading across his cheeks like a wild fire when he saw the shiver travel across Ichigo's body. Did that mean they'd done the deed? Or that they'd gotten a little friendlier in the whole intimacy area?

It couldn't be the former, because knowing Ichigo; he'd have gotten a lot angrier with Renji, had he guessed correct. Instead the orange haired boy bit his lower lip, stuck out his hips a little and brushed past him, glancing back he said rather coldly, "You have a dirty mind, Renji. You must be feeling real lonely these days or something."

Ouch…

Renji rolled his eyes and ran past Ichigo, smacking him hard on the butt before diving into the classroom, laughing with boyish glee. Ichigo hissed and ran after him, cursing and threatening. Izuru just smiled to himself and began to follow the other two slowly into the classroom, relieved the topic was off him. If he got really, really lucky then it wouldn't be mentioned by Renji again for a while (hopefully long enough for him to stop blushing like an idiot!)… Fortunately for him, as he reached the scene in the classroom, Izuru was relieved to realize that the topic definitely wouldn't scoop back to him again today. He dropped his bag on his desk, Sensei wasn't here yet… But there was quite a gathering around Uryu Ishida's desk, something that was quite rare on its own (considering Uryu was cold-natured and disliked being surrounded by people); each of the people seemed to be discussing some sort of event rather excitedly.

"So you're throwing a house party, Uryu?"

Now this was strange, Uryu Ishida (as well as being cold-natured and anti-social) was a straight-laced A-grade student, devoted to his pretty stitching, skilled sketching and archery-club; and he was throwing a house party… Izuru didn't think he'd ever seen him at a party… or at a bar?

"Yes," he said stiffly, "It's at my father's house."

"Hey, I'm invited, right, Ishida?" Renji asked, puffing out his chest, a hand leaning onto the slimmer boy's desk. "I mean, you couldn't throw a party without me."

"What makes you so certain you're the life and soul of anyone's party?" Uryu answered back coldly, his eyes narrowed, "But yes, I had intended to invite you."

Izuru had heard a rumour that Uryu lived separately from his father as the two of them didn't get along. He wondered what that must be like, and what the two of them had fought over.

Renji laughed aloud, beaming brightly, "Hey! So who else is coming?"

"Renji-kun, we all talked about it before you arrived," cut in Tatsuki, taking a small step forward from her place at the side with the other girls. Orihime was beside her, chatting to Chizuru happily about the rather… strange smelling breakfast she'd bought with her (Izuru thought it smelt vaguely of strawberries… and fish?).

"Well I wanna know," he frowned a little, sitting on Ichigo's desk, "Ichigo is coming right?"

"That's up to Ichigo," Uryu sighed, brushing back his hair from his eyes, "Anyway, tell whoever you want. I don't mind who comes."

Tatsuki took out her phone, "I doubt Ikkaku-san is coming in today, so I'll just text him the details? Your father's house is three streets down from the hospital right? The big white one, I think its number 14, right?"

Uryu nodded; he was rude to everyone, but he seemed to have a softer spot for kind-hearted people. For example he was always very decent to Orihime-chan, and not for the reasons most guys were. "Yeah, that's right," he said politely, beginning to put away his sewing.

He noticed the excitement vanish from Renji's face… Of course if Ikkaku-san was coming, he'd invite Yumichika-sempai along with him, which would mean Renji wouldn't have any fun, or he'd drink himself stupid and vomit outside after pissing everyone else off.

"Does your father know about the party?" Ichigo cut in suddenly. Izuru recognized the look on his face as… disapproval.

There was a slight flush to Uryu's cheeks at that comment, he seemed to dismiss it, shrugging his shoulders, and there was a definite sneer in his tone as he said, "Why should he? I'm a teenager, teenagers throw house parties."

So that explained it… he was out to get revenge on his father after some sort of fight. Izuru wondered whether or not he'd attend… It would have to depend on whether or not he was spending time with Gin. Out of the two he'd rather see Gin, then go and supervise Renji getting wasted and making an idiot out of himself… (Izuru had been there when Renji discovered Ikkaku and Yumichika together, and despite having good reasons for his actions, Izuru and Momo had a really tough time getting him home that night, especially with Renji cursing and sobbing quite a lot…)

"Yeah, that sounds real mature, Uryu," Ichigo snapped, rolling his eyes and leaning forward on his desk.

"Oh, who are you to lecture me about maturity? And why do you insist on calling me by my first name? The two of us are not very close acquaintances."

Ichigo chuckled and leant back on his chair, about to respond when the classroom was interrupted by Keigo Asano (or as Izuru remembered him, the class idiot), who lunged through the door, greeting everyone rather loudly, before becoming openly horrified that Uryu was the centre of attention, babbling something ridiculous about it being the beginning of a terrifying new world where nerds were considered the alpha male… the normal rubbish Izuru was against listening too, for the sake of his mere sanity.

Izuru turned to look out of the window, feeling a little agitated that Gin wasn't here yet; he was excited, actual excitement in his chest, waiting for the mere presence of the other man!

"Uryu is throwing a party," Ichigo interrupted Keigo, "Pretty much everyone is going."

"Why would an anti-social guy like Uryu throw a party?" Keigo gasped in surprise, staring at Ichigo like some would a deity statue or a various other being holding all the answers. Naturally the other neglected the fact that Uryu sat perhaps three seats from Ichigo, and Keigo was easily one to forget to use his indoor voice.

"How in the hell should I know?" Ichigo snapped back, shooting Keigo one of his looks, "Anyway, the whole class is going."

"Am I invited?" he asked a little hopefully.

Before Uryu could duet Ichigo's 'no', the door crashed open revealing the student body president, or Keigo's older female alter ego. Now here was the most terrifying woman in the world… Even the likes of Renji were taking a nervous step backwards… Kyoraku-Sensei kept his distance.

Mizuho Asano strode into the classroom, her hands on her hips, "Good morning, Class 1-A, I'm here to speak to Keigo," she beckoned for her brother to come to her. Even Izuru (who couldn't stand Keigo) felt bad for the guy as he shakily walked towards his sister. She seized his shoulders, muttering something about 'Is everyone here?'

He nodded his head.

"Then where is Ikkaku-kun?"

Oh right! Izuru had almost forgotten – the most terrifying woman in the world had a thing for men with shaved heads. Her preferences seemed to include tough, proud-natured men with shaved heads, so Ikkaku-san (despite being bald, which he'd deny he was anyway) was pretty much on the top of her list. Recently Mizuho-san had become somewhat obsessed with the idea of snaring Ikkaku away from Yumichika and the rumour was she intended to marry him one day.

"I-I, erm, I don't think he's in today?"

One of her hands curled into a fist, "What do you mean? My darling isn't present? Is he sick?"

"I don't know?"

"Alright, Keigo," she turned and pointed dramatically at Renji, who had been attempting to cower behind his desk (unsuccessfully, considering he has bright red hair). "Renji-kun, may I borrow your cell-phone?"

"What do you want with it?" He mumbled, though he already taking it out of his trouser pocket.

Her smile was a little too terrifying, a slight vein flashing on her forehead, "I'd like Ikkaku-kun's number. As student-body president, it's important I investigate his absence, I'd hate for an innocent student to be accused of truanting."

Nobody in the whole world would believe that. Izuru wondered a little why she didn't just say 'I'm going to take his number and stalk him a little more than normal', nobody would have argued with that.

"Oh, erm, right… Here you go," he handed over his phone instantly.

Of course she wouldn't point out that he shouldn't have his phone in school. Seeking out her beloved came first after all… He watched her carefully adding Ikkaku's number, feeling sorry for the bald man already. Izuru pondered on whether or not Mizuho would track down his location and attempt to nurse him back to health in a Stephen King's Misery sort of way.

After the crazy women left, Keigo let out a sigh of relief and flopped into his seat, "Poor Ikkaku," he grumbled, "She's going to be on the phone all day now."

"Yeah," Renji was smirking a little, despite himself, "Poor, poor Ikkaku."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine, by Rob

Jushiro didn't fear death, nor did he fear the pain of his illness or the infirmities to come. He had made peace with himself long ago. He had repented all of his past sins, he had strived throughout his life to help people and change their lives for the better and even now, with death so close to him, his only thoughts were on those he loved. Indeed, he had no regrets, everything he'd ever felt compelled to do he had done, all the things he could have wished for from life he had, and there was no business of his left unresolved. There was no reason to fear death.

If anything it would be a welcome release from his pain, from the horrific coughing fits that caused his throat to rip and blood to pour, from being unable to breathe to such an extent he'd find himself fainting, vomiting and sometimes just plain panicking. Each and every time he would cough or feel faint he would feel a sense of horror, an emotion so primal it was virtually impossible to explain, like a cold feeling radiating in his stomach which would consume all thoughts and emotions, leaving him feeling nothing but a icy statue, a being that existed but in a soulless state, a being without meaning. He knew by now to recognise it for what it was, an intense state of shock and wonder, an instinctive fear that 'this very moment could be my last' and thinking that – despite all the loose ends that have been tied up – this was not an dignified way to go. There was always someone whom you wished you could have said 'I love you' to before that moment had taken place. It didn't matter how ready you were for death, how much you wanted to die, you could not stop that fear!

Anyone who said they didn't fear dying was either a liar or had never encountered death itself, because when you were in that very moment, knowing that the breath you took could be your last or the sight you saw may be the final thing you ever saw, all you felt was fear. Your thoughts were always 'why here', 'why now' and you always found yourself in a pit of utmost despair, hating the parents that bore you and loathing the gods that made you this way, wishing that the fates could have just given you a second more, just one second! Oh, because what that very second could mean . . .!

Each time a coughing fit came, each time a dizzy spell consumed him, he'd always wonder if the people who loved him truly knew how much he loved them in return, if it was possibly Kyoraku knew the depths of his devotion, or how much Byakuya and Rukia knew how much he hoped they would succeed in life. Did Yamamoto-sama know how much he looked up to him and respected him? Did Toshiro-kun know how much he adored him and thought of him like the son he always longed for? Did any of them know how much he'd miss them and long for them? Most of all he didn't want to die alone. There was always a sense of shame in his attacks, no matter where he was, a curious self-loathing in that he could collapse onto a chair or maybe die in an undignified pose, but that there was someone there comforted him: he was not alone. In his own home however he was often alone, his nurses Kiyone and Sentaro were only part-time, his family and friends worked or were still students themselves, and Kyoraku had a very busy schedule . . . These days with each attack he would find himself shedding tears, not from frustration, pain or his inability to breathe, but from fear, fear he may die alone, and fear his last few moments would be in complete solitude.

He did not fear death . . . he just feared being alone as he died, crying silently out for his lover as his final breath left him, mentally pleading for someone to hold him as the world turned to black . . . that was what he feared most.

At one point in his life he had very little reason to have this fear, he was a teacher after all and spent every moment he could with his students, even volunteering to teach extra-curricular classes and take on private tutoring. He'd adored children and had always wanted one of his own. He loved the fresh vitality they brought to his life and the happiness that they could give him, a light in his world of shadows. His favourite had always been a small boy named Toshiro Hitsugaya, a cousin of a student of his named Momo who lived with his guardian Matsumoto-san, the boy was a savant, capable of things even men Jushiro's ages found trouble doing, and so Jushiro had been assigned as the boy's tutor. He loved those moments. His students were like his children, his colleagues were like his siblings, and he was always surrounded by family during the day and returned to Kyoraku at home at night. Then – as his illness progressed – he was forced to give up teaching. Just like that his dreams, his hopes, his loves and ambitions had been stolen from him . . .

Of course Toshiro-kun still visited weekly with a frown on his face and a pout on his lips, and Rukia-san made sure to see him as often as she could, sometimes even daily if possible, but it wasn't the same. He couldn't impart knowledge to them, play roughly with them, sometimes he couldn't even laugh with them without inflicting a coughing fit upon himself, and so he found himself wearing a smile that seemed false and fake, a shadow of his former emotions. He was simply wearing a mask of happiness and his heart became weaker both physically and emotionally.

Tuberculosis. It was a simple enough disease and one he should have been vaccinated against, and yet he hadn't been, and as the disease grew worse it grew resistant to treatment, and other illnesses had invaded his body along with it. His skin had grown deathly pale, his once raven hair was now white as snow, and his once fit frame had became fragile and weak. He was a shadow of his former self, his hazel eyes still glowed at the sight of those he loved but dwindled each time he gazed upon his reflection in a mirror, despising this thing he had become. He was someone who now depended on others, who faced death constantly, and who had become too ill to work and help those in need, instead he had became a burden and an eyesore. It was never the life he had wanted, never!

It was far from the life he had planned for himself.

He'd grown up in a quite affluent household, near to where the Kira family lived, and with five brothers and two sisters he was never alone for a moment, money may have been tight with such a large amount of children in the house but there was enough love for everyone. From the moment he'd been born he'd lived to teach, he was the eldest of all eight children and so he spent all his time raising and watching them, and of course with his parents death in his twenties it had been up to him to raise them all as well. He'd met Kyoraku in school and the two had always been inseparable, they'd loved each other unconditionally and fought life side-by-side. Now with his illness his second-eldest sibling was raising the few youngest children, his lover was forced to work extra hours to support them both, and Jushiro was left wondering if he was perhaps more of a burden than he'd thought. He'd contributed as much as he possibly could of course, in his bedridden days he'd began a series of children's novels entitled 'Rejection of the Twin Fishes!', and it seemed they'd became rather popular, bringing in a hefty income. Yet it didn't matter how much money he helped to bring in, he still felt as if perhaps it was his time to die, his time to move on, perhaps it would be best for his family and for Kyoraku. He felt too much of a burden . . .

He stood slowly from his chair, at once feeling light-headed and forced to grab a hold of the armrest so as to balance himself. His head swam in a way that made him feel nauseous, his vision now faded black with specks of unidentifiable light drifting across his vision, and a feeling of coldness that often came in moments of weakness.

It took a long moment for the feeling to pass, but when it did he slowly made his way across the room, reaching a large table where sat a now wilting bouquet of flowers from Byakuya and a novel from Kira Izuru. It seemed Ichimaru-Sensei had been so impressed with it he'd passed it onto Shunsui to give to him, hoping that maybe – as an established writer – that Jushiro would be able to help out 'little Kira-kun'. The very thought made him smile. It made him feel like he had a use once more, a purpose, like he had a sense of being, even if that was to guide and inspire up-and-coming writers. Most of all he adored how Ichimaru-Sensei was treating him as if nothing was wrong with him, he was treating him like an equal and a friend, and that made him feel more human and less of an invalid, even if Kyoraku accused the man of being 'insensitive to Jushiro's condition'. Jushiro had a slight feeling however that Kyoraku's accusation was less to do with worry and more to do with jealously, after all his own writing attempts had ended disastrously.

Jushiro gave a smile and let his hand trail over the copy of Kira's novel, wondering if his young ex-student even realised his novel was being circulated around his fellow teachers like this, with the explicit request to help along with publishing if they could. He had a feeling that should he find out he'd be extremely embarrassed, and yet perhaps also feel a sense of pride that his work was so well received.

It was then he heard the door to the living room slide open. Startled out of his thoughts he turned to greet his lover with a warm and affectionate smile, relieved at finally having some company on such a dreary day.

"I'm home, Jushiro."

Jushiro smiled as he watched his lover saunter steadily towards him. He was dressed in the required uniform for teachers, but of course he'd marked it with some personal touches clearly against regulation, however it was that unique flare that Kyoraku applied to all things that made Jushiro love and adore him. When his lover came close enough he reached up to remove his hat, throwing it to one side, before engaging him in a soft yet passionate kiss.

Yet less than a few seconds in his throat began to tickle, a small scratching sensation deep within his throat where there was little hope of soothing it, and of course the more he kissed the more his breath left him, causing that slight scratch to become a sore ache. It was a feeling like a vice upon his throat-box, a dull yet powerful force that threatened to crush his voice entirely, something strong and choking, something that cut off his breath and forced him to pull back. It was humiliating to find himself in one of his bad episodes, unable to endure even a kiss, and to have to turn his head away from his lover and release a few, abrupt coughs into a clenched fists made him feel nothing but pathetic. True it wasn't a bad coughing fit, true after a second or two it had all but cleared, but how could he hope to satisfy Shunsui when in his worse episodes he was unable to even kiss him? Was it any wonder the other man flirted with women so often, that he chased other people? Jushiro really did feel inadequate.

"Hey? You okay, love?"

Shunsui took a gentle grip of his lover's chin and forced him to turn his head and make eye-contact, the sight of those flushed cheeks and lips strained red with blood made him wince inside, his expression changing to one of concern. He hated seeing his partner this way, he'd sworn after all to protect him no matter what and yet this was the one thing he couldn't help protect against. He felt so helpless, so unable to help his lover, wanting nothing more than to take that pain away and yet there was nothing he could do, he hated that feeling and he hated being unable to soothe his lover's pain. Even then his eyes were flecked with little pearls of tears, threatening to flow down his cheeks, and Shunsui knew there was nothing he could do or say to stop them, to make it better for Jushiro. Nothing.

"I – I'm fine," Jushiro said with a raspy breath and a bright smile, "I must have forgotten to dust today, you know how the slightest bit can set off an attack. I was just careless."

"Oh? So it's not that you're breathless just from a kiss?"

"Of course not. Please, don't worry."

"Very well," Shunsui gave a lazy smile of his own and reached forward to Jushiro, placing a soft and innocent kiss on his lover's cheek, he then pulled away and made his way over to the sofa, collapsing down as if exhausted, "I'll get one of those nurses of yours to give the place a cleaning tomorrow . . . make sure all the dust is gone."

Jushiro sighed and gave a sad little look of exasperation. He hated these games more than anything, Shunsui clearly saw past his act and had decided to burden his nurses with chores to guilt him into admitting the truth. It was frustrating because he would have thought by now Shunsui would just be open and tell him what was on his mind, but then again . . . it was hardly as if Jushiro was willing to do the same. The dilemma was if he admitted to being ill after just a simple kiss then his lover would worry, his nurses' would panic, and everything would be up in the air followed by a multitude of tests and people getting worked up, and he couldn't do that to them . . . It was better to just increase Kiyone's workload than to admit the truth and have everyone so upset over nothing.

"If you think that's for the best, Shunsui, although I'm happy to clean the room myself. There is no need to burden already overworked staff."

"Nonsense! I'm sure they won't mind," He said with a bright grin, "Now why don't you come join me on the sofa? My lunch break doesn't last forever and I have two very juicy pieces of gossip for you."

"Oh? Well I suppose as you don't have long . . ."

Jushiro was usually adverse to gossip but he'd learnt during the course of his illness – particularly when bedridden – that it was a good way to keep in touch with the world around him. It was nearly impossible for him to talk to everyone and catch up the way he used to, and because he was so ill no one dared to come to him with their problems anymore lest it upset him, and so the only times he ever learnt what was really going on in people's lives was through the mindless gossip of his visitors. He didn't mind at all in the way that he used to, in fact he rather enjoyed hearing about Toshiro-kun and Momo-san's little spats, or Ichimaru-Sensei's latest pranks, and it was always interesting to hear about Rukia-chan and her latest endeavours. He was actually grateful that Shunsui still loved him enough to spend time with him like this, to share aspects of his life and the lives of those around him, it made him feel more in touch with the outside world.

He gave a warm smile and slowly made his way over to the sofa. He sat carefully down beside Shunsui and soon found himself feeling rather exhausted, of course he wasn't used to any strenuous activities but to be tired out so quickly from merely walking across the room . . . already his breath was slightly panted and he was forced to lean to his side, rest his head on his lover's shoulders, and close his eyes for a moment in rest. It was truly a sad sight and never had he felt so old before, and yet he simply bore it and accepted his state for what it was, hoping that he at least had a year or even a few months left before his illness took over him completely.

"What kind of gossip is it?" He asked softly.

"Well," Kyoraku replied with a slight grin, wrapping his arm tightly around his lover, "I don't teach Ichigo-kun's class on Mondays, but Gin does. It seems he overheard Uryu-kun planning to throw a party at his father's house, a very large one where nearly all students he knows are invited, and Gin being Gin has decided it's his duty as a teacher to protect his students from themselves . . ."

"Meaning?"

Kyoraku smirked and looked dreamily upwards innocently, "Meaning with his heavy workload and a hot date tomorrow night he won't possibly remember about the party, but when his date's over – about halfway through the evening when our little students will be piss drunk – then he might just remember. Of course he'd have to tell the students' parents at that point, which would mean Ishida-san, Kurosaki-san, Urahara-san and others, and they would have to break the party up, probably even humiliating their poor children in the process . . . but one has to do what one has to do to stop them from getting drunk and hurting themselves. Underage drinking is illegal after all."

"And after Ichimaru-sensei's 'hot date', after he remembers to report the party to the appropriate individuals, I don't suppose that you and Gin will just be coincidentally walking past to spy on events?"

"Don't be so cynical, of course we won't!" Shunsui said with a bright, innocent smile, " . . . Matsumoto-san will be coincidentally walking past too. You see Gin will be dropping his date off at the party, at which point he'll 'remember' and report the party, then he'll go to the bar to meet Matsumoto-san where I'll just happen to be. We'll then decide to go for a nice walk on a nice night out and just happen to walk past with a camera . . . we're innocent in all of this, you know?"

"This is all Ichimaru-sensei's plan, isn't it?"

"Of course, but you have to admit the guy does have a sense of humour."

Jushiro sighed to himself quietly.

Indeed he could certainly see the humour in things but at the same time he remembered what it was like to be young himself. The students needed time to unwind, to take a break from the stresses of university exams that they constantly prepared for, and to assert themselves as adults and learn a sense of independence in a safe environment. They'd also learn a sense of how actions had consequences, after all after a couple of hangovers in his youth he'd very quickly learnt that alcohol wasn't the godlike nectar it was proclaimed to be. These social events were good for the children, and it wasn't as though they'd be drugs or promiscuous sex because – let's face it – Uryu would rip out the still-beating heart of anyone who dared try such things. This was an excuse to annoy his father with broken ornaments, loud music and vomit on the bathroom tiles . . . not a reason to have a warning on a criminal record. All in all it seemed rather mean to him to spoil their fun. Rukia-chan in particular needed space from her brother, it didn't seem quite right to ruin their evening in such a manner.

Then again, a part of him realised that this was exactly what Uryu wanted, because it was impossible to infuriate a parent about a party when that parent had no idea about the party's existence. He also knew that Urahara-san and Kurosaki-san had very high hopes for their sons, and Byakuya impossibly high expectations for his sister, they had a right as guardians to know when their children were engaging in reckless behaviour, and had it been his own child he would have wanted to know too. In which case why not just tell the parents now, before this mess even began? This had to be the most transparent of all Ichimaru-Sensei's pranks. The man just wanted to torture the students he disliked, laugh at the ones he did, and have photographic evidence for any possible 'innocent' blackmail in the future. It amazed Ukitake that the man ever chose to be a teacher when he clearly disliked the youth of today.

"I suppose he does," He unwillingly conceded, "But tell me, Shunsui, what was this other piece of gossip you mentioned?"

"Ah, well, you see . . ."

His lover was blushing slightly, scratching at his neck with mild embarrassment as he looked to his far left to avoid any possible eye contact. Apparently the man had either done something very wrong or found the gossip too ridiculous to retell to his lover, and Ukitake had a sneaking suspicion it was the former. After all Kyoraku was a man to act first and think later, it would make sense that he'd done something wrong, all too much sense in fact. He wouldn't pretend the idea of an affair, possibly bankruptcy or even a sexual harassment suit didn't hurt him, but at the same time what right had he to be angry when he should expect such things from the man? Everyone knew Kyoraku was a notorious womanising alcoholic, and he spent more evenings than healthy binge-drinking with Zaraki-san, but still . . . it hurt.

"What did you do, Shunsui?" He asked softly.

"Huh? Nothing, I swear! It's just . . . Well, I don't want to get your hopes up, that's all. Not over gossip anyway . . ."

"My hopes up?"

"Yeah . . ." Shunsui gave a loud sigh and lowered his head considerably, raking his free hand over his face as if he'd only just awoken, then with a sweet smile looked to Jushiro with bright – albeit regretful – features, "You see I heard something interesting, but it's kind of like Chinese Whispers . . . Well, it's just . . . Kisuke-san told Mayuri-san who told Ishida-san, who told Kurosaki-san who told Ichigo-kun who told Jeagerjaques-san, who told Aizen-san who told Kaname-san who told Gin-san, who told me about a new treatment that's possibly available for you."

Jushiro blinked rapidly and shook his head to clear his thoughts.

He was more concerned with the fact he'd been able to follow that long chain of story telling, rather than with the actual fact of the matter. It was like being back teaching young children on a playground listening to the 'he said that she said' stories, and even worse was that despite being grown-up Shunsui seemed to actually be finding truth in these matters. It was no wonder he'd been so embarrassed to tell Jushiro what he'd heard! How the story must have been retold from person to person didn't bear thinking about, and if anything it just made him wonder what poor Urahara-san had actually said in order to have ended up as a butchered 'there's a new treatment for Ukitake'.

"I know what you're thinking," Shunsui continued, to which Jushiro could only look at him as if to say 'no you don't', "And let me just say that break-time is very short, by the time Gin told me about his prank and then about the rumour mill at work lessons had already started again! So I didn't have time to look into the matter . . . so on the way home for lunch I stopped by at Kisuke's place. The old fart was out buying stock, but guess what information I got from Tessai-san?"

"A message not to call people younger than you 'old farts'?"

"Ha, still got a sense of humour I see." Shunsui said, rolling his eyes, "No. It turns out – now this is top secret, mind you – that Kisuke's been doing some private, behind-the-scenes medical research. I know he's been barred from medicine, which is why it's vital you keep quiet about what he'd been up to, and I don't even want to know where the lab is he's been working in . . . Well the genius has done it again apparently, he's found some sort of cure. He's given Mayuri-san the prototype and Mayuri-san's perfected it. Ishida-san is getting one hell of a commission, seeing as it's his hospital that technically discovered it. The point is Ishida-san is looking for test subjects and you're name is first on their list . . ."

The moment Jushiro heard that he shivered and closed his eyes hard.

There was a part of him that was deathly excited, thrilled at the fact he could be cured and would get to lead a normal and healthy life, that he might possibly get to teach again, raise his younger siblings once more and maybe even have a family of his own. He felt that familiar twinge of hope in his chest at the entire everything might be better, that he might get to be alive again and go freely out into the world with his lover, where he could spend as long as he wanted at Yoruichi-san's parties and not have to worry about his health or the affect of alcohol on his medications. It was clearly a good thing, a positive thing, and yet . . . was it worth it?

This was an experimental treatment. There was no guarantee it would work, none at all, and even if it did what would be the cost? Granted he would owe them no money for being a 'guinea pig', but what about his body, his health, his sanity even . . . What if the medicine made him worse or progressed his illness? What if it did work but left him bedridden for the duration of treatment? What if the treatment in itself was painful, with needles or transfusions or operations? Was it truly worth it? It was surely better to die slowly and with dignity, than to suffer greatly and die quickly with a treatment that could possibly fail him. Yet – yet he loved Shunsui. The very thought of leaving him before his time was up was heartbreaking, and to know that he had a chance, even a small chance, at being with him for a moment longer . . . surely that was worth taking?

He gave a small but weak smile, trying to work out what he wanted and where his conflict lay, and most of all if he should take the treatment despite its risks so that he stood a chance at being with Shunsui, or leaving things be and not getting his hopes up only to have them dashed again.

"Thank you for telling me, Shunsui," he whispered.

"Not a problem."

"Could you . . . Would it be too much to ask that you take me to the Urahara Shop on your way back to school? I would of course stay there until school was finished and you could pick me up, but I'd like to talk to Urahara-san or at least Tessai-san about the treatment, about what effects it may have and what my chances would be at success. If I was going to consider something new I want to know everything about it. In fact I'll make two appointments tomorrow, one for Unohana-san and one for Kurostuchi-san. So please, would you take me to Urahara-san?"

Shunsui smiled at his lover.

It was a lot to ask of him, a lot of pressure to put on him too, but frankly even if there was only a one-percent chance at success he was willing to take it, because he loved Jushiro, and as far as he was considered a one-percent chance may as well have been a million-percent. He didn't care what the odds would be, what the effects might be, all he cared about was spending as much time as he could in the arms of his lover, and it meant the world to him that Jushiro would even consider a new, experimental treatment. So when he asked to see Kisuke, to learn more about what would happen, he only had one reply:

"Of course. Like you even have to ask."

* * *

The one thing Yumichika loved about Ikkaku was that, no matter what, nothing ever seemed to keep Ikkaku down. He often found himself in dangerous situations or less than pleasant scenarios, and yet no matter what occurred he'd always find a way to jump back on his feet and get back in the game. It was almost as if life itself was an opponent who had to be conquered!

If he was insulted by Yachiru-chan's persistent nicknames he'd rise above it and not take it upon himself to discipline her, if he lost a match he had his heart set on winning he'd train consistently so he'd win the next time around, and even when another man was dating the love of his life he refused to give up. He refused to back down until he had Yumichika in his arms and a promise to be together forever. It was indeed the aspect of Ikkaku he loved most, the part of Ikkaku that inspired him in all aspects of his life, urging him forward in his modelling career and photography class, knowing that if his lover refused to quit then he had no right to quit either. They'd known each other all their lives, fought against everyone to be together, sacrificed so much to let their love bloom, and they'd even nearly lost Renji's friendship in the process to do so. Ikkaku was a man of inspiration, a man who would no doubt blossom in his field and later become a master of the martial arts he adored, and one day he may even run a dojo that could compete with Zaraki's. He had so much potential, so much lust for life, so much motivation and endurance! He would never let his dreams die, never, and that was perhaps his most admirable quality . . .

It was also his worst quality.

Zaraki-sensei was Ikkaku's idol and despite being a man of brawn he had a considerable amount of wisdom. Every day he'd impart advice to his pupils in the morning before school and training, he'd always take time out to talk to them when the need arose, and sometimes he even acted as kind of counsellor for the more troubled of his charges. When Ikkaku had been sent to Zaraki to become his charge, it was less to do with his abilities at kendo and more to do with his ability to find trouble in the strangest of places. The idea had been that through regimented training, a tough sensei and very strict rules that he'd not only master an art he loved, but would become a responsible member of society. He would learn discipline, to fight in a controlled environment and not as a criminal on the streets, and he would learn to be a real man. In fact with Zaraki's ninety-six-point-five success rate with troubled teens it seemed the perfect place for him to go.

Yumichika had learnt long ago, as a model and photographer, that looks were deceptive. So what if it seemed a good idea, they should have known that with Ikkaku's wild, independent and determined nature that things would not go as plan!

Zaraki was a man Ikkaku highly respect. His first words to Ikkaku had been spoken to the boy his first day at his dojo, where Ikkaku in a furious temper had challenged the man to a duel. He'd suffered a humiliating defeat but his sensei's words had inspired him to get stronger, to carry on chasing his dreams and to improve himself, and for any other pupil that would have meant more hours at school and all free time inside the dojo training . . . but not for Ikkaku. The bald-headed boy had decided that for him it had meant less time at school, more time drinking, and every free minute fighting dangerously for his life in underground clubs or back alleys. Unfortunately for his daring lover there was only so much he could get away with, and finally he'd crossed a line that had forced both himself and Zaraki to get involved with his ridiculous affairs, and hopefully put a firm stop to them.

It had meant that from now on Ikkaku was walked to school by a very irate Zaraki Kenpachi, in fact not only was he walked to the school gates but to the very classroom itself. It was of course an humiliating experience, made purposely worse by how Zaraki would walk him by the arm to his seat, sit him down, hand him a homemade lunch with a sweet grin and wish him well. It was usually followed by made-up yet serious sounding words of worry, such as 'if you have anymore accidents I've left a spare uniform at reception' or 'I'm sure Uncle Gin will let you spend lunch with him if you pass out again during sex ed'. Yumichika had actually cried laughing when an over-excited Renji quickly spread the stories around the dojo, and it seemed the utter humiliation might actually teach Ikkaku a lesson and drive it into his head to actually attend lessons. It was a very unique approach to parenting but worked incredibly well.

Outside of school Ikkaku had found himself with several new chores: babysitting Yachiru, personal slave to Iba on weekends and in charge of new students during weeknights. His bedroom had even been moved back into the main building, right next to Zaraki-sensei's own bedroom, and so that meant more mornings of Yachiru waking him up with songs and less nights of sex with Yumi, because – let's face it – no one wanted Zaraki-Sensei to hear that. Not that Yumichika was willing to give him any regardless, oh no, he was far too furious with Ikkaku to allow him access to his beautiful body! His boyfriend would have to be a fool if he expected sex any time soon, a complete fool.

Overall it had put Ikkaku in a foul mood. He had became tougher, harder and crueller during his sparring matches and was training to excess in his free time, constantly working to get better and better. Oddly he was even trying hard in lessons he found 'useful for being a dojo master', such as biology and economics, although failing lessons such as English and art miserably. Indeed, harsh punishments seemed to be quite effective, and Yumichika found he hadn't even needed to give him the ultimatum of 'myself or your ridiculous fighting'. It had been a huge relief in that regard, because he'd been terrified in case Ikkaku would choose fighting over him, especially risking his life in those ridiculous fight clubs . . . and yet . . . yet it didn't matter what one did, some lessons were just impossible to teach, and one was apparently the art of 'curfew'.

Due to Ikkaku's eight o'clock curfew he was unable to spend the nights at Yumichika's apartment, and so they were forced to spend most nights in Ikkaku's room instead. Therefore Yumichika currently found himself preening in front of his boyfriend's mirror, trying to make himself presentable for bed, a fact that amused his lover no end considering there was to be no sex and yet he still wished to look perfect. Meanwhile Ikkaku was stretched out on the bed, hands behind his head as he watched Yumichika with a lustful gaze.

"Come on, Yumi," His lover's voice sounded almost pitiful considering how 'manly' he always professed to be, "It's going to be a great party. That Ishida guy's trying to piss off his dad so there's guaranteed booze."

"There's alcohol at Matsumoto's Bar too."

Ikkaku grunted loudly, "Yeah but Zaraki-Sensei's got my photo up in there with his number on the back, Matsumoto-san's got to ring him if she sees me even so much as walking past the bar window."

Yumichika raised his hand to stifle his laughter.

In the mirror he could see his pale skin blooming with a crimson flush, his lips tightening into a line as he tried to be subtle, and his wisteria eyes gleaming with mischief. The very idea of Ikkaku being forced away from alcohol was amusing enough, to find out the extents that Zaraki-Sensei would go to in order to stop him was just plain funny! He was tempted to head over to the bar just so he could see the photo, that and so he could gloat over how his underage lover was now banned from one of his most famous places in town. He only had himself to blame of course, if he wanted his freedom and his alcohol then he shouldn't have acted like a complete moron, getting beaten up like that and waking up in an alley . . . he'd worried everyone half to death! If anything Zaraki-Sensei wasn't being tough enough on the bald-headed brat.

Sighing he flicked his short bob away from his face and glanced over in the mirror one last time. He seemed ready enough for bed; he'd made sure to moisturise, that his hair was completely knot-free and there wasn't a single speck of dirt on his entire body, and yet it still frustrated him that in the morning his work would be undone and he'd be back at square one! In the night he'd sweat, his hair would become mussed and there'd be a little speck of sleep in each eye, it was a foul and ugly sight and not one in which he ever wanted his lover to see! Most morning's he could wake up before Ikkaku and wash, dress and apply his face before his boyfriend saw him, even if his lover claimed him beautiful regardless he still didn't want him to see him in such a state! It just worried him because – now that Ikkaku was forced to attend school – he'd be awake at the crack of dawn for breakfast, chores, homework and then his little walk with Zaraki-Sensei . . . It meant that his lover would have to see him at his most imperfect! It was a horrific thought indeed.

"Regardless Ikkaku, I am not going to a high-school party, the oldest person in Ishida-kun's year is only sixteen! It'll ruin my image. I can also imagine Renji will be there," He turned to give his boyfriend a meaningful look and saw the other wince slightly, "He may still be a dear friend to you but he resents me for breaking up with him, if I appear there he'll only drink to excess and make a fool of himself, probably either starting a fight with you or coming on to me in the process."

"Renji's not like that," Ikkaku argued, "We're good friends and I trained him for a long time in martial arts too, if does start a fight it'd only be for his honour and afterwards – being the men we are – he'd probably be grateful and everything will go back to normal. You know what it's like, fights even the playing field, it means he can get his anger out and we can go back to being good mates."

"Oh, I forgot that for you fighting solve everything."

He ignored Ikkaku as he glared at him and made his way over to the bed. His lover was no doubt pissed because he knew very well that fighting was the cause of all his troubles, and he know doubt resented Yumi for bringing it up, unable to let go of what he'd done.

Yumichika, however, had no plans to let the subject drop anytime soon, and if that meant throwing it in Ikkaku's face every two minutes then he would, because if that's what it took to show how reckless Ikkaku had been then he would gladly annoy his boyfriend by doing so. Fighting for sport was one thing, but to see Ikkaku laying in what was likely a pool of blood and urine in a dirty alley from some illegal fight . . . It scared him. Terrified him. He never wanted to see Ikkaku like that again, never wanted to get that phone call and worry in the man was even still alive, he'd do anything to make sure Ikkaku understood that, anything. In fact the day they found Ikkaku they'd forced him to go for a check-up at Ishida-Sensei's hospital, where Unohana-Sensei had checked him over, and when Yumichika had heard that everything was alright he'd spent the entire night making love to Ikkaku. Throughout the whole time he'd cried, not because he was sad or in pain but because he'd been so relieved, so happy his lover was okay and safe at last.

Gently he rested his head on Ikkaku's chest, laying his ear directly over the younger man's heart, listening to that regular rhythm as it echoed proof of life, proof that his lover was with him and his heart beat for him. He wrapped an arm and leg around Ikkaku, unable to separate himself from him, just relishing in the moment as they lay entangled as one person. When Ikkaku's arms wrapped around him he sighed, already ready for sleep but refusing to close his eyes, at least not when they were sharing a rare moment of intimacy, just lying in each other's arms without the fear of separating or the expectation of sex. Moments like these were rare now Ikkaku was being worked to the bone, but that's what made them all the more special, that's what made them all the more cherished.

"Anyway," Ikkaku murmured, burying his nose into Yumichika's hair to smell the delicious scent of his shampoo, "You won't be the oldest one there. Ishida said everyone could bring at least one person, so Ichigo's bringing his boyfriend who's older than you are, and I think someone invited some guys named Stark and Luppi from the Arrancar Corp. Hell, that Kukaku babe's going too, oh and some guys from Vizard? I'm sure one of them is your boss. He's like blonde and kind of creepy, apparently Ichigo's going to try setting him up with Renji, which would be awesome if it worked out."

"You seem to know more about the guest list than the host." Yumichika said a little too coldly, "However I suppose if there's people from such distinguished places arriving, along with Shinji-sama himself, then I can deign to make an appearance."

"Awesome! Thanks, Yumi."

"However I am curious how you propose to get Zaraki-Sensei's permission to go to this party. I'm most certain it's on a school night, and with alcohol there and fellow rivals of yours, it doesn't seem like a place he'd want you to go."

Ikkaku let out a large, generous laugh and placed a soft kiss to Yumichika's head, "Don't you worry about it. I'll be there. Zaraki-Sensei's a smart man but I'm sure I can fool even him if I have to, just meet me there when the party starts, okay?"

"Okay," Yumichika sighed, "but if that girl's there, the one that keeps stalking you . . . I can't hold myself responsible if I scratch her eyes out."

Ikkaku shuddered. "Put it this way, if you don't I just might do it myself . . ."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten  
By Rachael

At times he wondered if it was the Ishida legacy for a child of the family to resent their parents. His father had disliked his father, whom Uryu had adored, and now as a young man, he too disliked his father.

It had been nearly two years since his grandfather passed away, and sometimes Uryu had to remind himself that his mentor, the man he called 'sensei' with such devotion, wasn't still sitting in his small apartment on three blocks away from school. Before his grandfather died his relationship with his father had been distant and a little forced, but after the funeral things between them had just collapsed.

For someone who held himself up as being a mature young man, it seemed almost alien to remember himself getting hysterical and crying. He'd been thirteen years old, hardly a child, but his father had to drag him from his grandfather's apartment. He hadn't wanted to leave. His grandfather's had always been a place of safety for him, somewhere he could go when he felt sad or alone, he'd loved it there. It was more of a home for him than the one with Ryuken. He knew his grandfather was dead… but there was a part of him that just couldn't let him go. If he went to the funeral to say goodbye it would be over, if he left the apartment, it was over… and his grandfather would go, and soon it would be like he'd never existed. He couldn't let go of him, he just couldn't.

* Flashback *

"… waiting around for him, half like he expects my father to return."

Uryu rubbed his forehead as the memory began to reconstruct itself around him…

His bedroom changing to the now empty sitting room, it was his grandfather's flat. He was sat on the window ledge, staring out at the view of the garden. The material of his middle school pants rubbed against his chest as he pulled his knees tightly to his chest. He could hear his father talking angrily on the phone in the hallway near the front door… His grandfather's furniture and belongings set into a series of boxes, half of which had been removed, all that remained were the pure white walls.

Father… Ryuken wanted him to leave. They wanted to give the room to a new resident tomorrow. The cleaners were due to come and take care of the room… but Uryu wouldn't let them. If they cleaned the room it would be like his grandfather never owned it. They'd already packed away his things, but he could still sense him here. He could still see traces of where the older man had been. He couldn't let them remove every trace of him from this place. It was his grandfather's home!

"Uryu… Son, I've had enough of this. It's time to go home."

"I'm not leaving."

Was that his voice? Was he crying?

"I've had enough of this. We're taking your grandfather's things home, I've told you this. Now this is quite enough. The people here intend to move someone into this room by tomorrow; I don't have time for your silliness. Let's go home."

"This is my home! I said I'm not leaving! This is grandfather's house! I don't care if they want to move someone else in!" He backed up towards the window ledge, almost like he was terrified. He kept shaking his head, clasping onto the wooden window ledge.

"Uryu, stop it."

A strong hand reached out and clasped his wrists, holding them together and wrenching him upright from the window ledge. He could hear himself yelling out, scraping his feet along the floor as Ryuken pulled him from the safety of the ledge and towards the door. He could see the white walls flashing past him, dragging him towards the darkness of the hallway, the artificial lights blinking threateningly.

"Let go of me! Get off me – I'm not leaving! Let go – let go – why are you doing this – Just let me stay!"

He felt his nails digging into his father's forearms; it was such a useless fight. He could see himself, he was small and skinny, his father was a fully-grown man, and there was no question that he'd be able to overpower him.

"I can't deal with you being like this. You're not a child now."

He could feel the tears on his own face as he fought desperately to be free of his father's grip. Snarling and cursing at him… he was never like this, never in his whole life.

"Uryu, he was my father. Don't you think this is hard on me as well? I miss him too."

"No you don't! You hated him – you're just going to sell his things for your precious money! I hate you!" he was screaming at his father, "I hate you!"

Ryuken stopped short for a moment, staring at him with eyes so like his son's, he let go of his wrists, his voice was slow and slightly softer as he said, "I don't care if you hate me. But you're leaving this place now. It's not healthy for you to behave like this."

Uryu stepped back furiously, "You don't care about him! You're just angry because you want to get back to the hospital! Why can't I stay here? If its money you want…" he snatched up his wallet and hurled it at his father's chest, his whole body shaking with hysteria.

The older man bent down and picked up the wallet, "Don't be so stupid. We're going home together."

"He loved me more than you – the only thing you care about is your money! Just leave me alone!"

There was some hurt on his face, Ryuken pocketed the wallet, and then he shook his head and seized Uryu's arm, opening the front door and began to drag him outside. With his one free arm, he remembered clasping onto the doorframe, his nails scraping along the edge as he was pulled away.

They had struggled down the hallway towards the flight of stairs. Nobody was around here, he remembered his panic; he had to get back to grandpa's home. He had to get away from Ryuken and go home –

"Let go of me!"

"Uryu – for Gods sake – just walk down the stairs – why do you always have to make everything so difficult?"

"I never asked you to have me!"

"Well I did so you just deal with it," he yanked him forwards, making him stumble, his father's grip keeping him steady, holding him to the staircase.

"Don't touch me – w-why couldn't you wait a-a week be-before you gave away his home!" he was crying loudly, his glasses smudged from the tears, his whole form shaking in his father's grip. "H-He's only been gone three days – why did you have too…?"

Ryuken took a deep breath, "Uryu, I'm not talking about this again. Your grandfather's gone. Now act like an adult and face reality. You can't behave like this."

It was a slip of his foot, he had to get away from his father, he didn't want to hear what he was saying – he wanted to go back to his grandfather's house. Everything about the older man was light and glowing, without him everything seemed to be getting darker and darker…

"I don't want too!"

He'd shoved his father hard with his other arm, making Ryuken to release him, but the force had sent his foot stumbling off the step, it felt for the slightest second like he was flying – he could see his father's hand reaching for him, missing him by the smallest amount…

And then he felt his body bashing against the stairs, and he kept going, he kept falling… the pain was excruciating, his arms and legs clashing against a strong more solid surface. Until at last he lay still on the floor, he'd lost his glasses on the way down, and there was blood over his vision, making it even harder to see. He groaned and tried to sit up… but his body was so heavy…

His father was back beside him, he was yelling for help, he was holding his hand, and he could see his white suit stained red…

The last thing that crossed his mind before he slipped into unconsciousness was the fact that he'd never go back to his grandfather's now.

* End Flashback*

He was unconscious for two days; he'd broken his left ankle and his right leg, three fingers on his left arm, his right wrist and his nose. He was told his father had waited with him nearly the whole he was unconscious. But he doubted that severely.

At least in those days when they didn't get along, Uryu showed his father some emotion, he'd yell and fight and cry. After that day, when he woke up in the hospital, he was like stone to Ryuken. He was completely cold, only ever showing him distain or apathy. Sometimes weeks went by without them exchanging two words to each other, Isshin Kurosaki was always trying to promote good tidings between them, but it never worked out.

On that day, Ryuken had taken something from Uryu that he could never return. The two of them would never relate to each other, he doubted his father was sorry for that.

Uryu glanced around the room at the plastic cups and bottles of alcohol he'd bought. This was his father's house. Uryu wasn't here often. He lived in a small flat closer to school that Ryuken paid for when Uryu told him there wasn't much point in him living here. They didn't see a lot of each other but when they did, it was normally an argument.

Three nights ago, before his father went away on business for a few days, they' been fighting over Uryu's college application. He'd been going to visit potential colleges without his father, or even mentioning it to him. They'd argued about it until Ryuken had snapped at him that Uryu acted more like a robot than he did a teenager.

So much for 'act like an adult'… His father was one of those things were he could be so immature. Normally it was exclusive to idiots like Ichigo or Ganju (who thankfully had gone to college with Hanataro at the beginning of the school year). Normally he treated everything with maturity and care, but in this case, if Ryuken wanted him to act like a teenager, then he would.

Teenagers threw parties that trashed the house and endorsed underage alcohol consumption… Ryuken had requested it, so who was he to disobey his father?

It was almost time for the party to start. He glanced at his watch; he was ready for things to get a little wild, though there were some things he wouldn't stand for. He wouldn't touch a drop of alcohol himself, the aim of tonight was to annoy his father, not damage his body.

And Ichigo would probably go out of his way to keep things in shape. He was bringing along his boyfriend, Uryu had only met him once… Jeagerjaques-san? Something like that… Anyway, he should keep the orange haired boy distracted from making this evening too difficult.

The doorbell rang and Uryu rose to his feet, "Well, Ryuken, this is how you wanted it," he smirked to himself as he stood up and headed out to answer it.

***

"Yer late, dick-head," was the declarative statement of greeting Hiyori issued. Despite the fact she looked like a prepubescent ragamuffin, she was very prompt, excellent with organization and time keeping. It was a little annoying really.

"Nah, yer just early," he snapped back at her.

"Yer late, yer too busy stuffin' yer face, I saw ya in the canteen, Shinji."

He caught sight of Lisa rolling her eyes and going back to her laptop, he could see its reflection in the large window behind her. She was screening through an album of swimsuit models. He never was 100% sure of Lisa's sexuality, it wasn't really the sort of thing you asked her.

"It don't matter. I ain't the latest."

"Yeah, seventh out of eight, yer a fucking national hero."

She had a potty mouth that girl. Clearly someone never had a spanking as a child. He'd offered to give her one once, but all she'd done was look at him strangely and call him a pervert… Pfft, as if.

Kensei turned up looking damn pleased with himself… a mystery which was completely explained when he caught sight of Shuhei-kun staggering around outside the meeting room to drop off a file. He had to admire Kensei's nerve; there wasn't really anything exciting about colleagues fucking at work in the sort of work place where everyone just did there own thing… But here, everyone knew everyone… so a quickie at break was terribly adventurous.

"Well, now Kensei has returned from his… adventures," Lisa rolled her eyes, closing down her laptop, "We can begin today's agenda?"

"I'm bored," Mashiro groaned, leaning on her elbows on the table, "I wanna get back to work – Kensei, you dummy, you held up the meeting!"

The silver-haired man was in too good a mood to really give a damn about the green-haired woman's complaints; normally he'd flip his lid and wave his arms around like a man possessed by devils.

The eight of them had sat around the meeting table the way they always did, and Shinji would have to remind himself just how much time had passed…

To think all those years ago they had just been eight friends from completely different backgrounds; it had been years since he'd so much as opened a law book… the idea of actually teaching the damn thing seemed a little… mad. He shuddered a little, law and his teaching days brought back bad memories. Sure it had its perks, nice holidays, eager and sometimes quirky students, lots of parties… He had a really big desk, normally piled up with jazz albums, and a bad-ass apartment nearby the campus.

However there was also, starring in most of those memories, a little smudge always skulking behind him… a stupid jazz-hating nerd called Sosuke Aizen. Oh he'd never trusted him, he always took the piss out of him, he could almost hear his words playing in the back of his mind, 'Yer just crap, Sosuke, ya got no sense o' fashion, no sense o' style or music, yer like an old man'. And who could blame him? Sosuke Aizen seemed to be native for 'fun sponge'… Still, he was a fun sponge who totally double-crossed him.

He wasn't sure when the boundary changed from the two of them being boss and assistant, but did it. One evening he'd been drinking with Shunsui-san, after the other man had left, he was leaning on the bar, drunk as a skunk, when Sosuke arrived, complaining about something… And being as drunk as he was, he'd gotten into a conversation about their personal lives.

From what he could remember, he'd said something like, 'I never see ya with a girl, Sosuke.' (Whenever he spoke to Aizen like this, he'd normally lean on one elbow and pinch his cheek or smack it gently) 'Never see ya with a girl; yer ain't got a bad face, why do I never see ya with a girl?'

Aizen had pretended to act flustered, 'That's a bit of a forward question, isn't it, Hirako-san?'

What a dumb ass… such a degrading memory… Shinji could still remember the other man's words after he'd pressed him a little bit for it. 'I like being around you. I like hearing your voice, Hirako-san… I had hoped my feelings for you would have been clear by now, it hurts me beyond words that you do not see me the way that I would have hoped.'

That was probably the first time he referred to anyone as his 'first love' to try and get lucky. Sosuke Aizen had fucked him in the toilets of that bar, and it was possibly the most humiliating and erotic encounters of his life.

And so it began… it was more like a battle of wits, not loving each other, just screwing. Shinji didn't think of it as Aizen dominating him. They only fucked when Shinji wanted it, his desk, Aizen's stupid little assistant desk; the hotel room on the staff meeting, the staircase, against the whiteboard of the classroom, a ski lift… and that stupid little sneak was oh so willing to please him. To the outside world, it would probably look like Hirako-san being so very mean to his assistant as normal. Maybe Aizen hadn't gotten smarter; maybe Shinji had let down his barriers… He never thought he did. He was likely to go off on a tangent about his ex-assistant, calling him every name under the sun, but perhaps it was just because deep down he knew that he had let what occurred between them occur.

They were a little kinky… even when he was on the bottom; he had a strange sense of dominance when he was fucking with Aizen. He loved it and hungered for more and more. He remembered Aizen taking pictures of him naked, and his mature response of trapping the younger man between his thighs and taking some rather… intriguing photos of him… but he didn't remember Aizen putting a camera in his room and filming one of their 'love-making' sessions.

Sosuke left his position, and the next thing he knew Sosuke Aizen was suing him for sexual harassment. He'd been so angry – the other man didn't answer his calls. And boy, did he have a case against him… there were people ready to testify to Shinji's blatant verbal abuse of his assistant, because, let's face it, he never tried to hide his distain. Aizen never used the photos against him, but he sure as hell used the videotape (the first three minutes had Shinji snatching Aizen's folders and shoving him onto a bed, taunting him by removing his glasses, pinning him down and dangling them above his face, whispering him that he could only have them back when he'd 'satisfied him')…

Shinji was found guilty and fined for most of his money… He remembered after the trial like it was yesterday… He could remember the marks his nails made on the wooden desk before him; he remembered the stupid green tie he was wearing… and he remembered Kensei's hand on his shoulder as he and Love left the courtroom. Oh, the smirk on his ex-assistant's face was enough to make him want to rip out his hair. Then as everyone left the courtroom, Aizen had come over and whispered, 'I'm sorry, Hirako-san, I don't believe I've ever seen you look so angry', his words sounded gentle, but they were full of his smug demeanour.

'Get the fuck away from me.' Well, what else could he have said? He was certain that if he so much as moved into Aizen's personal space, the bastard would sue him for more money…

'I didn't expect to make you so broke… not that it bothers me too much, I'll have more than enough money for Arrancar now. Do you remember? My firm, the one you said would be run by 'drippy-ass lawyers'? I bet you never imagined you'd be the one to fund it."

'Well, lookie how that happened,' he remembered rising to his feet, wishing he had a brief case of something. 'Now if ya don't mind, Sosuke, I have better things t' do.'

He remembered being half way towards the door when he heard Aizen chuckling, and he'd turned around, absolutely livid… The other man simply shot him a charming smile, removing his glasses and brushing his hair out of his face. He'd always liked that look better… 'You should feel glad that I spared you the embarrassment of the photographs, Hirako-san,' he teased, his tone level and calm, 'You know the ones, of you all… flustered, moaning, on your back; you look exceptional that way, I'll admit. I think I'll keep them as a memento of our time together.'

Shinji knew it was stupid. Hell if there was anything not to do that day, it was definitely that… He'd dived on Aizen and attempted to bash his head into the cold stone floor… naturally he was removed by Love and Tousen-san (a little toy of Sosuke's) before he got very far… but the attempt cost him another rather hefty sum.

Still, fuck teaching law! He was a leader in one of the most prominent media organizations in the world, he spend his nights either alone, in good company, or with a sexy model. He never had to avoid the rent man, in fact the only man he avoided these days with Aizen… the big-shot lawyer.

Though he'd never admit it to himself, nobody had quite satisfied him in bed like Aizen had, even now, there was a part of him which twinged inside as he laid eyes on the arrogant son of a bitch in the newspaper.

The closest match was probably Kisuke in his pre-teaching days, ah, Kisuke, there was one swell guy.

Shinji sighed as he noticed everyone seemed to be finished… Hiyori was probably gonna give him some shit on the way out about not paying attention… who cares? He'd been invited out tonight, Ichigo Kurosaki, whose dad was a good friend, had asked him to come to his friend's party. It was gonna be some high school thing, but he needed to get out. Kensei was going too, with Hisagi-kun, and Hiyori as well (though she'd probably get asked if she was legal to drink…).

He now owned a briefcase and swung it beneath him as he headed out of the office, glancing to his left as he caught sight of a television a group of employees were sat around watching. Great, now his Aizen-senses were tingling as he saw the name Arrancar… Stupid gay television…

Ah, there the bastard was. He seemed to be getting interviewed about some new client of his… He'd heard of Mayuri-san from somewhere. Anyway, there was Sosuke, smirking and glancing up at the camera without a care in the world… what a prick. And there was Tousen-san behind him… There was a pair you could just shoot out of the sky.

Shinji switched off the television and began walking out of the back doors, ignoring the groans of the employees. Tonight he would party and forget all about his unfortunate flashback sequence…

***

Renji had to admit, there was nothing like a house party. And who'd have known Ishida had such an awesome house? It was so big, with like a million rooms; there was definitely room for everyone, even though it was getting a little crowded. He was humming happily to himself, holding the beer bottle in his right hand, it was nine-thirty, he was already slightly red faced and so far having the time of his life (mostly due to the fact he hadn't seen Yumichika around… yet). Uryu had a karaoke machine, and after she'd had a few, Rukia had sung 'Take on me', 'I believe I can Fly' and 'A whole New World' with him. He waved loftily at her as she sat with Momo giggling over WKD bottles. Looking through the crowds, he could see that guy Stark he'd been introduced too about an hour ago, and that little girly guy who came in with him… Luppi or something… anyway he kept trying to dance sexy on the dance floor… it would have been hot, if he wasn't so creepy looking.

"Hi, Ichii!" he waved wildly as he spotted the orange haired boy, his gesture nearly knocking over a group of girls nearby. "Ichii, get over here, you missed karaoke, ya bastard!"

Ichigo rolled his eyes, he still looked sour about this whole party… of course he seemed to have used it as an excuse to get lover boy here, but he kept shooting Uryu evils whenever he saw the skinny boy. Renji was sure he'd over heard them arguing yesterday at school as well… Ichigo's father and Uryu's father were friends, so that made sense. In a way he had to wonder what on earth Uryu's dad had done to piss him off so badly.

"Renji, how much have you had to drink?" he scowled, peering down at his bottle.

"Aw, don't be such a square," Renji smacked him on the back, leaning in to nuzzle his shoulder affectionately. "Everyone here is drinking, yer the only one not having a good time."

Ichigo sighed, brushing him off, "I don't drink, dumb ass. Come on, have Fanta or something after you've finished that. Or water."

Completely unaware of what he was saying, Renji just focused on the fact that Ichigo was looking pretty hot tonight. His t-shirt was really, really tight… it looked good on him, someone's been working out… Renji smirked a little, wishing he were wearing tight jeans too.

"Hey, Ichigo," cut in a darker voice, and the redhead looked up to see Grimmjow, now leaning on his boyfriend's shoulder. He was dressed in a suit, but his shirt was half open, his tie dangling from one side, a cocky smirk on his lips, "and, Renji-kun, hey."

"Hello, Grimmjow-san," he smirked, "Ichigo lecturing you about beer too?"

"Oh, so you do it to your friends as well?" Grimmjow chuckled, "Come on, Ichii, just have one beer, it'll help you relax."

Ichigo looked slightly faltered, then he smirked, lowering his voice, "Are you sure you want me relaxed with that sociopath around?" he gestured his head to the still dancing Luppi. "Wouldn't you rather I am alert and ready to kick his ass?"

"I'd rather my Ichigo has fun at a party," Grimmjow pouted a little.

Renji had to admire the other man's work… He had could refer to Ichigo at his, he held a lot more weight in persuading him to break the law… nearly a year of dating, and he almost had Ichigo putting out. He could tell…

"You can drink," the blue-haired man continued, "Just don't get like that guy," he gestured with his head to two guys who were singing loudly outside. He and Ichigo both laughed before reclining against the wall to chat to a few more of the adults.

Now that looked interesting. "I'm gonna go check it out," Renji waved at them before he made his way through the crowded room, passing the kitchen which was full of people making their drinks and laughing loudly. He half wished Izuru was here, that guy was always awesome to party with… even though after a few, he did cry and get awfully huggy. He slipped out of the back door and peered out at the scene before him… so this was were Yumichika was hiding.

The garden was set out in a lot of groups all sat around talking, some of them smoking, one girl was throwing up into the flower-bed, though he couldn't recognize her from this angle. The group causing the most racket was of course, Ikkaku and… what appeared to be Iba singing loudly in the middle… he couldn't work out what they were singing, but they were singing it with all their soul, despite being wasted.

Yumichika was sat on a bench nearby… he looked so fucking cute today. He was wearing really tight jeans, his butt always looked really good in jeans like that, and his shirt was baggy but drawn to his slim torso by a little black waistcoat. He must have had a few, because his cheeks went red when he drank (so he didn't drink that often or very much).

After waving and edging past Ikkaku and the guys, he plonked down beside Yumichika, who instantly looked uncomfortable, his eyes narrowed.

"Hey," he sighed happily, "You look good."

"That was the general idea," Yumichika glanced up at him and smiled slightly, "You look drunk, Renji-kun."

Renji groaned, rubbing his head, "Don't call me 'Renji-kun', Yumi."

Yumichika was looking up; probably checking how far away Ikkaku was from him in case he needed to be rescued. He lifted one of his legs up so it rested in front of him, his knees pulled under his chin, dangling one arm loosely against the bench.

"I apologize, Renji," he shrugged his shoulders, "So, are you enjoying the party?"

"S'okay," he shrugged, flopping back in his seat, "Better he's here than out in a club, eh?" he gestured with his head to Ikkaku.

"Thanks for helping me the other day," Yumichika cut in, "I don't know what I'd have done without you."

Renji sat up, a big grin on his face, "Aw shucks," he scooped an arm around his skinny shoulders, pulling him close into a disjointed sort of bear hug. He licked him affectionately on the cheek, only pulling away when he felt Yumichika's hands on his shoulders attempting to push him back.

"Hey, hey, is there a problem here?" Ikkaku's hand was on his arm now and he didn't sound mad. Renji looked up and saw a pink haze on his best friend's face. "Renji, Yumi?"

"Nope," he stood up, dusting himself down.

Ikkaku took his arm, his head on Renji's shoulder as they moved aside from the others, "Hey, Renji, don't lick him again, okay, man?" he frowned slightly, "He didn't wanna come tonight, so don't give him a reason to leave."

Renji sighed, chuckling; "I didn't mean anything by it, Ikkaku. Just wanted to hug him," he shrugged his shoulders, resting his face against Ikkaku's head, "You ain't mad at me, are ya?"

"I ain't mad."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"I suppose ya couldn't really… I mean, I came outta the house that time, and you were makin' out with my boyfriend, so you can't really do fuck all if I wanted to lick him," he slurred, straightening up and rubbing his face a little.

Ikkaku's expression pained a little, "Hey, Renji, I said I was…"

"I love you, man," he flopped on him again, this time making them both fall back into the flowerbed.

The moment seemed lost as they both started laughing and fooling around to get up, Renji was sure he had soil and plant in his hair now, and Ikkaku had a makeshift brown wig from the undergrowth.

"Hey – I'm back with the booze!" called a voice, and Renji's eyes lit up as he spotted his sempai entering through the garden gate.

Ikkaku had never liked Hisagi-sempai, if Renji remembered correctly, Ikkaku referred to him as 'a stuck-up, stiff pretty boy with no honour'… a lot of guys were like that about Hisagi-sempai. He was good looking, the girls liked him; he was good at sports, great in class, admired by the teachers and kind to the students, and (the point which really got to Ikkaku), he had nice hair. Ikkaku had been relieved when Hisagi started working at Vizard as it meant he came out less… (Renji and Iba both got on with Hisagi)

A few people cheered and rushed ahead to take the three carrier bags he was holding off him. Renji ran from Ikkaku and dived on the dark haired man, his arms around his shoulders, making them both stumble against the wall.

"Wow, you're smashed," Hisagi chuckled, "Urgh, Renji, why are you covered in shit?"

"It's soil," he mumbled, nuzzling into his neck, "I missed ya, man."

"I missed you too," the older man sighed; batting some of the soil of leaves out of the other' long, red hair, "Hey, straighten up a sec, I wanna introduce you to Kensei-san."

"Is that your looovvveeerrr?" he teased, though he did straighten up. He half wondered what this lover of Hisagi-sempai's would think of his friends: Izuru, who looked like an anorexic emo, Renji, who was covered in soil, leaves, ex-flowers and dirt, while drunk as a skunk… and Momo was pretty drunk tonight too…

"Yes," he sighed, though he said it firmly, tapping a rather muscled man on the shoulder, "Kensei, come and meet Renji."

The man had a cigarette dangling in his mouth; he looked a little fierce (nothing compared to Zaraki-san, but still…), older too… he was one of those guys from Vizard, he'd seen him come in with them earlier. "Shu never stops talking about you," he offered him a hand, smirking a little, "Nice leaves."

"I don't always wear 'um," Renji mumbled, embarrassed as he shook his hand, "You're really buff."

Shuhei laughed, his cheeks going slightly pink, "He's drunk," he told his lover, "Hey, Renji, is Izuru around?"

"He ain't here yet," he shrugged his shoulders, using the wall to support him, "I sort of miss him around… though by now he'd be around my waist, crying about his crush on Sensei," he laughed loudly at the memory.

"Oh, so he has a crush on a sensei," Hisagi chuckled, "Poor Izuru," he turned back to Kensei for a moment, snatching his cigarette and taking a drag himself for passing it back over his shoulder. "Which one?"

"S' secret," Renji shrugged his shoulders, tapping his nose and laughing.

"Shuhei?"

Renji turned his head and caught sight of Yumichika, who had stopped half way towards the door, when he'd spotted the other man… there was a strange sort of smile on his face… one Renji didn't recognize.

"Is that you, Yumi?" Shuhei laughed out loud and stepped away from Renji, opening his arms and hugging the beautiful man tightly around the shoulders, he could see Yumichika's arms dangling around his waist as the two of them began to talk ecstatically to each other.

He staggered closer and caught a few lines of the conversation… something like…

"You're with Vizard too? I never see you at work!"

"Dude, that's because you're a model. You don't get to just wander around HQ."

"Oh, so now you're more important than me, huh?"

What the hell was this freak show? Since when were his sempai and Yumichika such good friends?

"So I hear you dated - err?" He gestured his head back at Renji.

"Don't, I feel bad enough about that."

"I'll bet."

Were they even aware that they were still holding each other? What on earth was going on?

Clearly Ikkaku did too…

"Hi," he cut in, shoving Shuhei a little, stepping between them and offering him a hand, "Hisagi Shuichi or something, right?"

Well, he'd spoken too soon. It didn't matter whether he was in a club or not, drunken Ikkaku meant fighting.

"Shuhei," he corrected him, slightly bemused by the others reaction, but nonetheless apologetic. "It's nice to see you again, Madarame Ikkaku." He shot Yumichika a look that said, 'So you're still dating little boys?'

"Yeah, wish I could say the same."

"So, you and Yumi – Yumichika," he caught himself when he saw Ikkaku's expression. "You guys are…?"

"I'm his boyfriend," the bald man said firmly, "Though he seems to have neglected that information?" he shot Yumichika a cold look.

"Ikkaku, don't be an idiot," the beautiful man cut in, shoving his lover a little, "Shuhei and I are old friends, we were classmates, remember? Besides, he's here with someone, so don't embarrass yourself."

"I didn't realize I was over-stepping myself," Hisagi-sempai sighed, brushing his hair out of his face, "We haven't seen each other for a while, that's all."

Renji groaned… he knew that look – he knew that fucking look! Ikkaku wouldn't recognize it, he was besotted! But Renji had more sense to know it – it was the look of someone who'd slept with Yumichika… that embarrassed, but proud smile.

Fucking hell – was he gonna go for Izuru next? Was he not going to be satisfied until he'd shagged all his friends?

But when on earth had it happened? It couldn't have been while he was seeing Renji… because Hisagi-sempai wouldn't have done that too him. But before that… Yumichika must have been guys before, because he'd known sooo much more than Renji when it came to their early sex – to think, he'd learnt all that with Hisagi-sempai!

"When did you guys fuck?" Renji had called out, and only when Yumichika and Hisagi's cheeks went dark did he realize he'd said it out loud.

"What?" Ikkaku snapped, his eyes narrowed, taking one threatening step towards Hisagi.

Yumichika saw the danger and stepped in front of Ikkaku again, "It was years ago – we were fifteen for Gods sake, look, you're drunk!"

Ikkaku looked like he wanted to get into a fight anyway… and Hisagi-sempai was the type to not fight because his opponent was drunk. And from the looks of things, Hisagi had bigger problems.

"You never mentioned it to me," Kensei was suddenly behind his lover, a hand on his waist, "How come?"

Renji went to swig down the rest of his beer and scowled when he saw it was empty… He went to complain to Ikkaku, but his friend was now arguing loudly with his boyfriend. Hisagi-sempai kept saying something about 'it was just teenage messing around' over and over again… He thought about doing something, when someone bumped into him, knocking him flat on his back, groaning he peered up as he saw what appeared to be a middle school girl stomping past him…?

"Now look whatcha did, Hiyori!" A man with short blonde hair was leaning over him, "Hey, yer okay?"

"I don't feel very well," he mumbled, letting the adult pull him upright. His knees were shaky and he felt the hand on his, pulling him towards the door and inside the kitchen.

"That's c'os you ain't drunk no water," Shinji sighed, handing him a glass, he smelt it, "Actually that's vodka, two seconds," he leant over the counter-top and produced water this time, "Chug."

This guy looked about the same age as Kisuke; he was sort of hot though… he had really nice legs, he was really thin but in a lean sort of way. Although he had a really kooky smile… it was a little intimidating.

He drank the water obediently, before setting the cup down, "Thanks, man."

"Hey, my co-worker knocked ya on yer ass."

"Co-worker… I thought she was a middle-schooler?"

The blonde guy burst out laughing, he had a quirky laugh, showing off his teeth, holding his sides a little, and after a minute he calmed down, "Yeah, she's not."

Renji chuckled, he was sure he'd seen this guy before… "Erm, yeah, I'm Renji."

"Shinji," he gave him a half-hearted high five, "I think your friend is trying to set us up," he gestured with his hand to where Ichigo was waving at them from the other side of the kitchen. The two of them laughed awkwardly at that.

"He must have gotten sick of me coming onto him."

"Probably, though he's dense as fuck with stuff like that," he chuckled, "Ah – yer Kisuke's boy, ain't ya?"

Shit… "You know my dad?"

"Oh I know him alright," he laughed at something, but Renji wasn't sure what it was, "Erm, yeah, don't worry, I ain't gonna tell yer daddy his kid was drunk as a skunk."

Renji laughed with him, rubbing the back of his head nervously, "I'm not that bad, am I?"

"Just keep telling yerself that," he patted his shoulder, going to walk past him, "I'm going t' catch up with our elementary school adult," Shinji waved at Renji as he opened the door to walk out towards the back gate, "Keep drinkin' water," the blonde called before he vanished out of Renji's vision.

The water didn't really seem to last him too long, he frowned, licking his lips as he realized there wasn't any droplets left in the glass in his hand. He looked around the crowded counter-top for something to drink… that Shinji guy… with the creepy smile, had told him to drink water… That bottle was blue, that one was cherry red… that one was black… aha – clear! Renji picked up the bottle, stumbling a little, he wondered briefly if his hazy vision right now was anything like Ishida's everyday. He grabbed the bottle, unscrewing it, he began to chug it down desperately. The redhead paused, wrinkling his nose… wow… that was straight vodka…

How much of it had he drunk just then? It was nearly full a second ago… and now it came half down the mid-label… urgh, his head felt funny now? Was that karaoke music he heard?

Renji staggered back into the main room, his eyes fell upon a very drunk Rukia, singing her heart out with Momo and… what appeared to be Izuru, he briefly registered the song as 'My Heart will go on', damn, Izuru couldn't have been here long, and he was already trashed. The three of them had their arms around each other, eyes closed, rocking back and forth as they belted out the lyrics… Renji wanted to go and join them; he was about too, when he felt a hand clasp onto his shirt.

Ichigo was drinking? Now that really was a first… he had the cutest blush on his face, he must be one of those people who go red when they drink, his eyes half lidded, Grimmjow must have left him leaning against the wall for some reason.

"Hey, Ichii," he slumped against the wall next to him, "Where's scar-face?"

"'Scars on his chest," the orange haired boy corrected him, "Stupid."

Drunk or sober, Ichigo was still in the mood to correct him, so it would seem. Wow, he'd seen everyone he's close with drunk now. All except Ishida, but he wasn't going to ask for a flipping miracle.

"Don't call me stupid… whatcha drinkin'?"

"Grimmjow gave me water," he shook his empty glass, laughing quietly, "I feel like an ass… never drink…"

"That's why it's gone straight t' yer head… stupid."

Ichigo laughed a little, pressing his head against Renji's shoulder, "I better not have one of those… over hangs…"

"Hang-over," he slipped an arm around Ichigo's waist, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he felt that hot body pressing up against him… He must be like Izuru, loosing all personal space issues when drunk.

Ichigo grunted a little, "Urgh, whatever…" he nuzzled his face against his shoulder. "Yer hair smells good," he said after a moment, tugging it so Renji would let it down from a rather untidy ponytail. Renji sniggered a little as his long hair tumbled over Ichigo, covering him in a makeshift crimson wig.

"So where's Grimmjow?"

"He's off talking to Luppi," he rolled his eyes, "His ex… actually, I don't think they were even dating," Ichigo sounded slightly defensive about that last point.

Renji cast a look around the crowded room, and in a far corner, through an array of dancing teenagers; he spotted Grimmjow's blue hair, and what appeared to be that creepy dancing guy from earlier… Wow, what a leap in bedmates… small dark and scary to Ichigo.

"They get on?"

"Nah," he rubbed his head, making his way out of the long hair cloaking him, "Luppi came over started making trouble, he shoved me or something." Now shoving drunken Ichigo would result in him landing on his front, looking a bit confused… (His hypothesis from the suddenly very cuddly individual at his side, nestled in his hair) But try that shit out on sober Ichigo, and you'd probably need a doctor. "Anyway, Grimmjow took him over there…"

"He pissed about you dating ol' blue hair?"

Ichigo nodded, "Something like that… sounds like a weirdo to me…"

"Grimmjow talk about him a lot?"

"Not really," he shrugged, "Told me something about… vibrators or something."

Renji laughed out loud at that, Grimmjow certainly didn't look like the type to be into all that kinky shit. Renji had been curious about it once, but of course these thoughts had been raised and dropped by persuading (somehow) Yumichika to masturbate with a dildo in front of him… he'd gotten a little jealous… His face coloured up at that memory… Yumichika always laughed at him, he said the cutest thing about dating Renji was that he was so eager to please. He took another swig of a random bottle he found on the counter-top, smelt like whisky to him… Hmm.

"Is Grimmjow into all that?"

"I have no idea," Ichigo laughed.

"What, well, so you guys still haven't… you know?"

Ichigo went a little pink, and then he chuckled, holding Renji's shoulder and beckoning him closer, making a series of 'Shh' sounds, before whispering, "I gave him a hand-job the other day."

Wow… Ichigo was cute.

"Just a hand-job?" Renji asked quietly, "so he hasn't fucked you yet?"

"Don't say it like that," Ichigo slurred, "I don't wanna just… you know, just fucking do it?"

"Aw," he teased, rocking them both gently, "are you scared? It's your first time," he sang laughing quietly, causing Ichigo to ineffectively smack him in the face.

"Shut your mouth."

He looked embarrassed and sufficiently withdrawn now. Renji sighed, leaning in a little closer, he kept his voice down, "Are ya worried that you're not… experienced or whatever? I mean, he's what? Twenty-something, that's a pretty big age-gap."

Ichigo rubbed his head a little, "yeah… I guess it does bother me… I mean, I'm fifteen, I have more to loose if it goes bad… ya know?"

Renji kissed his hair, he didn't know why, but it smelt good, and having Ichigo here like this… it was too tempting, he had to kiss him somewhere and Ichigo would probably have less chance of noticing if it was just his hair. Yumichika never let anyone kiss his hair; Renji had done it once when they were in the bath and he'd flipped out at him and made him get out.

"Did ya just kiss my hair?" Ichigo asked, peering up at him curiously.

"Maybe," he smirked, mostly through alcoholic courage.

Ichigo chuckled, reaching up and tugging Renji's hair down to kiss it back, a challenging grin on his face, "Ha, take that."

***

Grimmjow chuckled darkly as he clasped onto Luppi's shoulder, "You know, I'm sick of your shit, you little fucker."

"I dropped the charges about you," Luppi laughed, sipping his beer, fluttering long dark eyelashes and peering up at the blue haired man, trying to make his appearance more cherub like. "All you have to do is sit through a nice long meeting, and come on, Grimmjow, since when do you care what Tousen-san thinks of you?"

He rolled his eyes, pinning the other against the wall harshly, "Don't try and play innocent with me, you little bitch," he snatched the beer and slammed it against the counter-top, "Quit stalking me, and quit bothering my boyfriend."

"Did I do anything?"

"You came over talking shit to him, then you shoved him," he jerked the smaller man up so his feet dangled above the ground.

"Are you getting rough with me?" Luppi taunted, he didn't struggle instead he raised a leg and wrapped it around the broader man's waist, fastening it so his foot rubbed against his backside. "Because you know how I liked you getting rough with me."

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed in irritation, "Hey, aw for fucks sake," he tried to detach the leg, yanking at it with his free hand, "What part of 'I never wanted to date you', didn't you understand?"

Luppi pouted, "Oh come on, you're a man with an… appetite for sex," he lifted his hands and yanked Grimmjow to him. He clasped both of his thighs around his waist, locking his feet together, "That fifteen year old can't satisfy you… why wait for a virgin who won't enjoy it and won't make you feel good?"

"It's not all about sex," he grumbled, still trying to detach the two of them, "I should probably point out that you look even younger than Ichigo… and you're a fucking nutcase," the blue haired man yanked the other off, shoving him against the wall, "Don't try it again."

Luppi rolled his eyes, "Oh be fair to yourself," he lifted a hand and pointed to the other side of the room, "How come your little strawberry gets to mess around with other guys, but you're being a celibate?"

Grimmjow went to hit him, when he caught something out of the corner of his eye. His blue eyes widened in shock and he had to turn his back on Luppi (something he was never normally brave enough to do), just to clarify his eyes weren't betraying him… There was Ichigo, his Ichigo, making out with Renji? What the fuck was this? As bold as brass, he could see Ichigo's arms around the other, one hand holding his chin in place, the other gripping his waist. The redhead's arms were around Ichigo's back, one reaching down to caress his backside.

His lips drawn into a snarl he stomped over to the two teenagers, his hand clasping onto the back of Abarai's shirt, he yanked him off his boyfriend. The redheaded teenage stumbled onto the ground, landing on his back, looking delirious and confused. He turned his furious gaze to Ichigo, softening slightly when he saw the drunken flush on his pink cheeks, the hazed over look in his eyes… he was totally out of it… Shit, this was all his fault… he'd been the one who nagged Ichigo into drinking a lot when he didn't normally.

Grimmjow snatched Ichigo's wrist and pushed him onto the sofa, he noticed a few of the kids were looking over at the scene. He recognized Rukia-chan from the others, and he beckoned her over. She was drunk, but definitely more sober than the likes of Ichigo and Renji.

"Hey, take care of him please," he grumbled, "He's out of his face."

"Erm, sure," she looked down worriedly at Ichigo, and the unconscious Renji who had curled up on the floor in what looked like a pool of his own vomit… the look on her face said 'I don't want to be the one helping him wash his hair later'. He didn't blame her.

He felt so angry… some of it at Ichigo for kissing someone else… but most of it at himself… he knew how Ichigo felt about drinking alcohol, he'd nagged him and nagged him and now he was so drunk he probably didn't know his own name. The lawyer slammed the front door shut behind him, hugging his sides slightly, it was probably dumb to run off without his coat… and it was bloody cold out here.

"Hey, Grimmjow – hey, I'm talking to you!"

He groaned and turned back towards the door, where a rather merry looking Stark was rushing after him, carrying a bunch of coats and jackets. Grimmjow rubbed his head, not only had he stormed out dramatically from a party, but he was being followed by a drunken counter-part of the laziest man he knew.

"You didn't need to follow me out here," he said after a few minutes, now wearing his coat which Stark had picked up among others (he said he'd forgotten what sort of coat Grimmjow was wearing, so picked up a few possibilities).

"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly wanna stay. Just a bunch of kids, a few guys from Vizard, and Luppi," he rolled his eyes at the mention of the younger man, "I don't know about you, but I can't stand that guy for too long," he shivered jokingly.

The blue haired male laughed with him, brushing his hair out of his face, "Yeah, same…"

Stark took a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and lit up, still carrying the coats under his arm, "So, erm… you calling a taxi?"

"I probably should," he admitted, "If you wanna go home, I suggest you drop off those coats back there before we leave."

"Yeah, probably," the lanky man chuckled, dropping the coats onto the garden wall and taking out his cell phone as he and Grimmjow began to make their way down the darkened street, "So, are we using the same taxi service as last time?"

"There wasn't a last time; I've never gotten into a ride home with you on a night out… Since…" he reminded him, "You and Ulquiorra and… I think Nnotria was with you…? Anyway, the three of you got into a van with some stranger and I didn't hear from you for two days."

Stark went a little pink, rubbing at his stubbly chin, then laughed out loud at that memory, "Oh yeah! That was ages ago – you stopped Luppi from getting in with us, and Ulquiorra came along because Nnotria and I were trashed and he didn't trust us not to get into trouble!"

Grimmjow winced… that was also the night Luppi and he first got it on… against the door of Luppi's apartment after they'd walked home. Ah a night to remember…

"Anyway, I'll call up the service I always use," he turned away from Grimmjow slightly to address the phone.

The shorter man stretched, he still felt lousy… Rukia would take care of Ichigo, and maybe tomorrow he'd pop around to see him, bring him chocolate or something to make up for it. Still, Ichigo and Renji kissing… he definitely wasn't expecting that to go and happen.

***

Shinji had left it a little while before going after Hiyori, charging straight after her would only have resulted in a severe kicking. That damn woman looked small but underestimating her would most of the time result in hospitalisation. The two of them were often together and would seek out each other's company over anyone else's, but not even Shinji could remember the last time they'd said anything remotely pleasant to each other. Ha, must be what folks call 'chemistry'.

He brushed his hair out of his face; he must have gone the wrong way… He was infamous for doing things backwards, so he'd probably gone down the opposite street. The blonde pulled his jacket tighter to him, "Damn it, Hiyori," he grumbled, "Where the hell did ya go?"

Taking a step down the left, Shinji Hirako peered down the empty street; there wasn't even the odd couple canoedelling in one of the cars… that was a shame because he'd have enjoyed freaking them out by walking real close to the car. He chuckled to himself, hands in the pockets of his coat as he took the next street upwards; this was a nice neighbourhood so there wasn't much chance of running into trouble. There were some places were looking like you had money could result in death… or whatever. He yawned into his hands, and then frowned when he heard some noise from the next street… Now that sounded characteristically like Hiyori… Shit…

"Hey – fuck off; don't touch me, dick-head!"

Of course he'd never admit to another soul for as long as he would live, but on hearing that, Shinji felt a ripple of panic dance through him. He broke off into a run down the street, all sorts of thoughts rushing through his head at the idea of someone hurting her – sure she could handle herself, but what if there were a group of big guys – what if they hurt her? Almost tripping as he sped into the alleyway, he instantly slowed down, feeling the panic which had been bubbling up inside him like an explosion; begin to dissolve away like it had never existed. Infact the scene before him… was kinda funny.

Hiyori was stood over the body of a badly beaten man. He was huge, twice the bulk of Shinji (which wasn't difficult really, but he was too proud to admit he was damn skinny), with bright blue hair… and he was bleeding, like someone (most likely Hiyori) had smacked him in the head with something. Upon further inspection, he noticed the skinny blonde woman was holding a bin lid like a knife.

***

This really wasn't his night. Some part of him had to wonder if this was his punishment for getting his boyfriend to drink alcohol against his better judgement. Ichigo had made out with his best friend… and he'd been beaten up by what appeared to be an angry middle-school girl.

It was so fucking stupid!

Stark had been acting like a dumb ass while they waited for the taxi, and had fallen down a small hill and landed on someone at the bottom. He'd fainted pretty instantly, but Grimmjow had run down and saw a little shaking body and ponytails. Naturally he was terrified that Stark had hurt some poor lost brat. So he had approached the girl and touched her shoulder…

He couldn't quite remember what he'd said… but it was something like 'Are you okay? Where are your parents?'… And the damn girl grabbed the nearest bin lid, yelled something and smacked him in the head!

Before he lost consciousness, he learnt that apparently (from her loud shouts after he'd fallen on the ground) the girl wasn't the child he'd suspected, but actually a twenty-five-year-old executive of some kind… Which left his drunk and now concussed mind wondering if this child appearing twenty-five-year-old executive was going to kill him?


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven  
By Rob

Byakuya was a busy man.

He was a man with duties, responsibilities and obligations. He was a man with a heavy workload, each day bringing about more papers to sign and more places to visit, people from all over the globe vying for his attention and desperate to meet with the Kuchiki heir in person. He could not afford to waste his time with petty problems or allow himself to become distracted by the smaller things in life, he had to remain focussed and allow nothing to detract from his plans and ambitions, he must always remember his place in society. It would not do to forget his place, to allow himself to lower or degrade his family name by acting inappropriately, for one minor indiscretion or ill-time word would cripple his reputation and ruin his image. It would not do for him to act inappropriately in any manner for the moment he so acted the world would know, and the man that was Kuchiki Byakuya would be forever plagued with scandals and rumours. His career would no doubt be shattered. He would forever be required to rest solely upon his name and inherited wealth, doomed never to have that independence he once held, never to be businessman again.

It was for that reason he despised himself – loathed himself – for waiting so diligently by his phone for his entire evening. It would be a sad, pathetic thing indeed were he to wait in such a manner for a colleague or acquaintance, but to be waiting for the cool of one Zaraki Kenpachi was beyond humiliating, it was devastating . . .

He had wanted at first to return the man's call himself, but to do so would be inviting a man of low class and social standing into his life, ruining his own status in return by associating with such a creature by choice. He could not allow himself – a Kuchiki – to give into ridiculous emotions, to fall prey to lust or curiosity, and call a rough and gruff man such as Zaraki . . . a man who had such large, muscular arms, a man who always held a faint, musky scent of sweat and perhaps cologne, a man who was powerful and assertive . . . He could not return his call, he simply could not. So where did that leave him? He could not make a phone call but what should he receive one? Why it would be rude to not answer an incoming message, and it was surely not his fault his secretary upon one of the many incoming calls of the evening 'accidentally' let slip his personal, mobile number. Of course most professionals never answered a number they didn't recognise, but would it hurt if Byakuya did? Would it really make much difference if he – for once – gave into his emotions and allowed himself a slither of indulgence? No. He could not. He would simply have to hang up on Zaraki if he should ring, he could not at all answer to that man! Why, Byakuya was not the sort of person who waited for anyone, who was submissive to anyone, and so to be waiting for a call was downright embarrassing, not at all what a man of his standing should be doing. No, he'd merely have to hang up on Zaraki, it was not as if he had any other choice . . . that was should he even ring at all. Perhaps the man had grown bored by now? It was possible.

It seemed however that his 'waiting' impatiently would have to come to an abrupt end. The choice had been made for him, tonight he would be forced to lave his phone and take action, albeit it in an unprecedented way. There came upon his phone a text message from a dear friend, leaving him with no other choice than to leave his home at once and ignore any incoming calls for more important matters:

'Ishida – Kuchiki – Kurosaki – Urahara – sorry for sending one message to all four of you, and sorry I didn't phone, but we just thought you'd like to know that your kids are out partying and drinking at Ishida-san's place. Matsumoto's offended because she weren't invited and Kyoraku says their taste in booze is terrible, I don't like the music either, it's all American! Don't worry; we've got a camera to take pictures of everyone, that'll be punishment enough for some. See you soon and please bring some good sake! Bye, Bye! Gin x x x P.S The address is:'

It was needless to say that he'd immediately left to retrieve his sister at once. It would not do to have her socialising with baser creatures; they would no doubt influence her for the worst and lead her into a sordid life of degradation and despair. There were very few of Rukia's friends who came from good, civilised backgrounds or were particularly moral, and as of yet the only two to which Byakuya approved of were Kurosaki Ichigo and Ishida Uryu, the only friends he had expressly forbade her from seeing were – to his memory – Abarai Renji and Madarame Ikkaku. He just knew that Ichigo and Uryu would be responsible, perhaps even absent entirely, but if he saw her even within a foot of those two hooligans that apparently belonged to the Kendo teacher and shopkeeper . . . He could only hope she was responsible enough to stay far away from the alcohol. It would be a nuisance to discipline her; it would be beyond a nuisance to do so if she was inebriated.

Luckily he would not face any humiliation in appearing within the vicinity of the party. It was being held at the Ishida residence that was in an upper-class district of town, quite far from Byakuya's own manor of course but close enough that he would not have to worry about any gossip for being seen in the area. In fact he could even look upon Ishida-san's home with a sense of respect and pride, it was a very large building indeed and commanded one's attention from a great distance, but it seemed to have a certain quiet and quaint humility about it that symbolised the values of those better types of people. The obvious downside being – of course – how it was obviously being used for an underage party . . .

On his way to the back of the property he had so far crossed an unconscious, blue-haired man being loaded into a taxi, two blondes screaming over what seemed to be legal issues and old love affairs, and a strange teenage girl obsessively ringing a phone over and over, proclaiming her love for 'fertile, bald men'. In the actual garden of the property it was no better at all. There seemed to be a bald-headed man passed out in a fountain, ignoring his ringing phone, whilst Matsumoto-san took several pictures of him, sometimes even included various objects. In one corner two young men – one blonde and one scarred – seemed to be in various states of undress, with Gin himself ogling one of them from a far distance, and as for Shunsui he was apparently – judging by the sound – singing on the top of his lungs an old, love song on the karaoke inside. It truly made him despair . . . What kind of adults were these that could actually join in and participate in a teenage party of deviance and defiance? Wasn't Gin the one who sent the message to the parents? Did he feel that his job was now done and he was able to enjoy himself? This simply would not do, he would have to find Rukia at once and leave. This was a disgusting, immoral scene, one he could not condone at all.

He quickly entered the building, twisting and turning every other second so as not to allow any ruffians to come into contact with his fine clothing, and in his mind he tried to blot out the frustrating sounds of a heavy bass and dance music; the lyrics positively vile to his mind and nonsensical, whatever a 'disco stick' was would be anyone's guess. The lighting seemed to be chaotic and there was a strong smell of vomit, urine and alcohol about the entire building, underfoot he could hear the crunching sound of objects breaking or crumbs being crushed, and all around him was the sounds of teenagers enjoying themselves. The cheers, screams, laughing and whistles were too much to bear, each youth seeming somewhat more inebriated than the last. The worst of the matter being how Ishida-san was clearly out of town for at least the evening, which left his two friends Kurosaki-san and Urahara-san to throw out the guests, make sure the children got home safely and tidy up for when he returned. If what Gin had said in gossip about Urahara was true, then he could imagine Renji would be the one forced to tidy this mess in punishment, a harsh act but one quite suiting to his crime.

Byakuya found his way into the living room where Urahara seemed busy in the task of ridding the place of alcohol, meanwhile Isshin was ushering out those sober and responsible enough out of the house and property, albeit yelling about 'how sweet youthful indiscretions could be'. He watched silently as Urahara walked past the karaoke machine carrying a huge bag of booze, stopping only momentarily to unplug the machine and leave Shunsui and two underage girls whining for it to be turned back on, only to be asked politely to leave. It was lucky that Shunsui knew not to push his luck and left right away.

Those who were passed out, throwing up or too drunk to leave were left to stay. Their parents being called for the most part, although in the bald-headed man's case he seemed to be taken away by an androgynous being of either gender. On the floor, spread-eagled in the middle of the living room was Abarai Renji, passed out and snoring loudly. Towards a distant corner was Ishida Uryu, smirking suspiciously despite how Kurosaki Isshin was in a rare serious mood and lecturing him severely, and on the sofa, fast asleep, was Kurosaki Ichigo . . . with Rukia sitting beside him fanning his face.

She seemed so serene, luckily quite sober although she'd clearly drunk at least a cupful of wine, and wearing a look of annoyance at being forced to look after her intoxicated friend. It showed her considerate and warm nature well that despite everything her first thoughts were Ichigo's well being, but it would not get her off the hook, because she clearly knew she should not have been in that situation to begin with. She knew well that men like Madarame were the type to spike drinks, she knew that men like Abarai were the type to take advantage of a drunken woman, and she knew that teenagers often carried weapons or attacked even when not provoked. To stay out late, to drink, to socialise with these fools . . . She was not the sister he knew her to be. His disappointment was inexpressible by words alone.

"Rukia." He said coldly.

At once she jumped and turned around, facing her brother with an expression of shock and horror, completely unaware that he had even been standing behind her. No doubt she was wondering who had told him to come, or perhaps how much he had seen, and come to think of it was her face not looking a little too guilty? It couldn't be that she had done anything too outrageous; she was not that sort of girl. He could only hope that guilt was from the knowledge she was in the wrong and that she sought to repent, for that would mean she was truly the great Kuchiki woman he knew her to be, and not some disgusting, immature teenager like those around her. Maybe she needed to be private tutored, taken away from these lowlifes; it would not do to have her fall any deeper into this pit of foul immorality.

"Br-Brother!" She gasped, bowing deeply at the sight of him, "I'm so sorry! I just came because my friends were here; I just wanted to spend some time with them. I made sure not to drink and -!"

"You disappoint me, Rukia. You were not raised to be like this."

"I – I'm sorry, Brother."

"Indeed you should be, for there can be nothing more disgusting, unpleasant or revolting as to what I have found you doing here today. I cannot believe a young lady would allow herself to succumb to the temptations of drink, what could possibly be worse? You disgust me, Rukia." He refused to look at her. He could not. "Come, we are leaving."

He quickly turned his back and looked around the room one last time.

Isshin had apparently gathered the few 'too-drunk' kids into the living room, sitting them down in various places as he fetched them all water and paracetoml, and outside the laughter of Matsumoto-san could be heard fading into the distance as she left with her two companions. Urahara on the other hand had rolled Renji onto his front and stood at his head, looking down at him as he obviously tried to work out what to do or what to say next. Both parents were no doubt as furious as he was.

Disgusting. This was the reason he would never be with a man like Zaraki, for who could stand the stench of the lower classes as they gorged themselves to excess on cheap alcohol, committing sins that devils knew not of. It was bad enough those teenagers were ruining their own livers, worse still that they dared to bring down his sister, a woman of fine standing and great upbringing. Did she really wish to associate with this? Was Rukia's idea of fun fanning a drunken boy on a couch as he groaned with a headache, stuck in a room smelling of vomit as Kyoraku sang crazy songs of love? She had taste, manner, class, poise, elegance, and yet she wasted her time and energy in a place like this, letting her mind rot and her intelligence die on the winds of such vile company. These were the types of people that represented Zaraki's class; in fact one of these was even his student. It was proof enough that emotions were weak, that he could not debase himself to socialising with riff-raff, it was proof enough that people such as these could do nothing but drag you down to their level. Pathetic.

He looked at Renji lying on the floor, pulling himself up onto his elbows as his face paled and his body swayed like a leaf in the wind. He was gazing down at his father's bare feet, strapped into old-fashioned clogs, and muttering something like 'It's not my fault, dad, blame Jinta and Ichigo and –' followed by a list of names. The look of Urahara's face spoke of disinterest and fury, the way his eyes rolled expressing complete annoyance and perhaps indicating he'd heard this same story many times before already, and then - . . . and then Renji's face flushed red and his head jerked forward, his cheeks puffing as his lips pursed together, an expression of pain and horror coming over his features . . . all before he vomited a gorge of foul-substance onto his father's bare feet.

Byakuya's face contorted with disgust.

"When we return home we will have strong words, Rukia," he said, with a blank expression. "This will not happen again."

Then with that he left, his sister walking swiftly behind him.

* * *

It used to be a common philosophy of Shinji's that 'the feelings of those below must not be considered by the one who stands on top'.

It was a philosophy that Aizen could understand to a degree, for when one stands on top of the world one cannot allow themselves to fall prey to sentimentality, one simply cannot take onboard the opinions of those lower in status or position. To listen to those lower would lead to sympathy, sympathy would lead to doubt and doubt would lead to inaction. To doubt oneself is to question ones motives, ethics and decisions, it means that objectivity gives way unto subjectivity, and it means the majority often suffers because the feelings of the minority must be eased at all costs. To listen to the feelings of those below you is to sympathise with them. It means perhaps giving up on an excellent aim or ambition solely to placate those beneath, for whom – knowing the pain they cause those beneath them – would ever dare to follow an 'unreasonable' goal? Indeed nothing would ever be attained, bringing true the statement that those below should not be considered by those above.

Yet that did not mean those feelings should not be understood.

Aizen was a smart man. He knew that a great man, an immortal being, and even the gods themselves all relied on those below them, for they were all born out of a need from the 'little people', brought into a position of power because they had a purpose to serve and something to give. He also knew that without followers one did not have power, because one simply could not do everything alone. After all – great as he was – he did not have the medical or scientific knowledge that Szayel did, nor did he have the ability to be in multiple places at once, and so it was safe to say without researchers, lawyers and other employees his company would have failed as a whole. His law firm would not succeed without lawyers, his technological research would fail without skilled hands, and so many other facets of his company would not even exist unless he had the manpower under him to help it.

It was for that reason he learnt to understand the feelings of those beneath him. It was useful for if an employee was discontent they may wish to resign or strike, understanding his feelings helped to prevent this, likewise there were many other scenarios in which considering the feelings of those below worked out for the best. It helped for example to understand Gin's need for extra money to help pay for the bills his teachers salary could not cover, although with the size of his apartment and virtually non-existent food bill it should have been nearly enough, but still knowing his need enabled him to hire and keep on an excellent motivational speaker. It was also by understanding Tousen's need for justice he was able to maintain an excellent disciplinary officer and lawyer, playing on the man's emotions and admirable traits to manipulate him into taking the actions he so wished.

Ah, so what if he brought his men with money, manipulated them with subtle words and vague gestures, did it matter when they were happy and so was he? Aizen never considered their feelings as such, for example if Gin asked for an unreasonable raise he would of course be fired – a perk with having a freelance employee – and should Tousen ever act in a way he disliked he too would be fired. Yet that did not mean he did not understand them, and it was because he understood them that he was able to manipulate them into being the perfect beings, able to keep them by his side and even under him in the case of Tousen . . . A pleasant memory indeed.

That was something Shinji would never understand. His little philosophy was always finished with 'even if the one on top understands those feelings', and that was of course Shinji's downside, for he never did understand those feelings or he just assumed he did and therefore never looked deeper. He was arrogant in himself, believing that he understood it all when he clearly did not, and if he couldn't understand it he would not even try for it was clearly 'beneath' him. He had never learnt to look 'beneath the underneath', to find the lie within the lie, to see the reflections of the shadows themselves. Nothing was ever simple, but often there were webs inside the webs, a convoluted mass of strings in which to pull one would knot ten others. Shinji knew to trust no one, but because of that he pushed them away at a distance, almost as if the proverb 'keep your friends close and enemies closer' was meant for everyone except Shinji. The blonde was too perfect and intelligent after all to realise that just because he'd noted someone as untrustworthy that it didn't mean he'd won, in fact it meant the opposite, because by keeping them at arm's length he never knew who the really were or understood them, and thus he was powerless to stop them from hurting him. Sure he saw the betrayal coming, but what good was that when you refused to understand those beneath you well enough to know what was coming, and without knowing what to look out for how could you stop it?

'The betrayal you see is trivial, what is truly fearsome is the betrayal you don't see.' Those had been the words he had said to Hirako Shinji moments after the trial had ended, and they were as true today as they were so long ago . . .

Shinji never trusted him, which had been an intelligent decision, but because of that he never truly gotten to know Aizen as a person, and as such Aizen's personality, emotions, motivations and skills had all gone unnoticed. Shinji had assumed he'd see the betrayal coming, but he had not. It had been almost laughable to witness but – as much as he loathed admitting it – it had also been a very pleasurable experience. Shinji may not have sought to know Aizen as a person but his body was a whole other matter. The blond had at the time long, waist-length hair and Aizen could to this day remember feeling it trailing over his chest as Shinji rode him from atop, and he could remember the way that it would tickle his thighs as Shinji threw his head back in climax. He could remember the sultry sound of jazz poisoning his eardrums some nights as, after class over a disliked student's desk, they would begin their own game of 'teacher and student', and he could remember the way Shinji could give oral sex so perfectly it was as if his large mouth was made for it, in fact it made him almost wish they were still an 'item' so he could test that new tongue-ring the blond seemed to have received.

Hmm, such memories were pleasant but served as little more than a distraction. Truthfully Aizen considered himself, for the main part, to be asexual. He had experimented in college with one or two lovers, the first with a woman of great beauty and strength and the second of course with Tousen, but neither partner had even came close to having the skills Shinji had. He despised admitting it but he felt little to no arousal for most men or women, but Shinji was different, there was something about the captain that made him interested, and their encounters were always pleasurable. Yet most of all he adored torturing the blond, making him pay for the sins of the world and forcing him to enjoy it in the process . . . Yes, Hirako Shinji was one of a kind, the only person who could make Aizen enjoy the act of sex, and yet here he was ready to sue his ex-lover once again . . .

He had received a somewhat . . . baffling call at around eleven-thirty in the evening from one of his employees, a man named Stark. The gentleman had seemingly contacted Gin who – against better judgement – gave Stark his private number, an act that in itself would require severe words. It seemed that a Sarugaki Hiyori-san had rather ruthlessly attacked Grimmjow, and that he'd been taken to Kurosaki Clinic – the nearest clinic – to be treated. This was followed by some pointless gossip, something about how Grimmjow had been allowed to share Ichigo's room and the two had 'certainly kissed and made up, if you catch my drift', followed by some useful information. Including passers-by there were officially five witnesses to the brutal attack, security cameras from a nearby shop had the attack on film and – to top it all off – Grimmjow had an X-Ray showing a broken left radius and photographs of a severe black eye. It was not a crime he could ignore even if he wished to, and so he was forced to seek damages from Vizard . . . There was an almost sense of shame in taking money twice from Shinji but his sense of guilt was fleeting, for this time the man had brought it on himself for associating with such violent company. So, although not a fun way to spend one's night, Aizen had spent a considerable few hours doing the paperwork and phone calls to get ready for a lawsuit. He had also called upon his lawyer to check on his health, but judging from the pants he safely deduced his employee was swiftly recovering.

It was indeed far from a typical night. He was actually seconds away from climbing into bed when the phone call came, and so three hours later he was frightfully tired and beginning to look forward to the look on the Vizards' face when they were taken to court. It would serve them right for disturbing his rare few nights of peace, and with his foul mood tonight he was tempted to sue them for the highest possible amount he could, however it seemed the fates were far from on his side . . . At now half-two in the morning he was torn away from his work by a loud knocking upon his door, one that seemed rather frantic, one that refused to go away unless acknowledged.

Dropping his pen upon his desk Aizen wandered through the halls of his mansion, wondering if he needed to perhaps call security, already mentally firing the incompetent doormen who had clearly allowed this visitor through the locked gates and onto his property . . .

When he finally reached the front door and threw it wide open he was confronted by a rare sight indeed: Hirako Shinji.

It was not at all whom Aizen had expected to see. In fact of all the people Aizen had expected Shinji had not even made the top ten lists . . . He had expected perhaps for it to be Tousen, ready to hash out legal details and debate what course of action to take, or for it to perhaps be Gin, drunk from a night out and looking to crash at his surrogate father-figure's home. Truth be told he even somewhat expected Urahara to visit on behalf of Vizard, but certainly not Shinji. What was the man thinking? To come alone to Aizen's private home was the height of stupidity, and having previously taught law to a degree standard Shinji should have been aware that this made accusations of blackmail and bribery all the easier. It was even stranger as officially this legal issue was of no concern to him, this was a matter solely for that Hiyori girl, and so Shinji had no actual reason to be on his property.

The blond looked as handsome as ever. His hair although now chin length suited him well, framing his face in a particularly pleasing manner, his hazel eyes as sharp and discerning as the day they met, and his skin so pink and creamy it made Aizen smile in memory of how it felt under hand. He had abandoned his clueless look and ridiculous facial expressions that so often revealed his upper teeth, instead he wore a look not unlike that of Kuchiki Byakuya, one of condescension and superiority. His nose was high as if smelling a foul smell, his eyes gazing down as if Aizen were beneath him and his overall attitude screaming aloud he'd rather be anywhere else in the world but on the doorstep of Aizen Sosuke.

Aizen smiled at the sight.

His lips pulling into a warm, sincere expression whilst his eyes narrowed considerably, his pupils fixating on the man before him like a predator upon prey, the eerie mixture of kindness and sadism making Aizen seem all the colder, like a devil in a man's body. There was a sense of pleasure in his features, a pleasure of seeing the business man he once deceived back before him, suffering as his business partner's career was metaphorically ripped in half by one of his men, there as also a seeming sense of regret, a slight flicker of pain, almost as if his human side had finally shone through.

How was it possible to look pained and pleasured, kind and bad, evil and good? Why did Aizen always have to be a man of contradictions? If Shinji had to guess it was probably to keep people on their toes, always guessing, never knowing. It was hard to hate a man that by day appeared your typical geeky bookworm and by night, even as he betrayed you and destroyed you, did everything with a warm and pleasant smile. It just proved he wasn't a man to be trusted. He was hiding something, always smiling because he always thought he was so damned clever and had such an upper hand, one day he'd wipe that smile off Aizen's face, one day he'd make the man suffer the way he made Shinji suffer, the way he was making Hiyori suffer. Yet it was hard to fully hate Aizen, because – let's face it – without him ruining his career he'd have never found a new one, never been happy working along fellow friends in a job he loved. If anything he probably owed the little freak, but he'd never admit that for as long as he lived. He'd rather die than add another reason for that bastard to gloat.

Aizen pushed a hand back through his brown locks, smoothing them back as his eyes became thinner and perused Shinji's body like an artist admiring a work of art, and then his smile seemed to shift into one much more dangerous than usual . . .

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Hirako-san." His voice was calm, cool but with a slight tone to it that denoted humour, almost as if he was openly mocking him whilst hiding behind a mask of false pleasantries, "May I ask what brings you to my humble abode? If it is to hear me call out 'Sensei!' once more then I am not adverse to that, although it will not be as much fun now that title has been ripped from you."

"If ya tryin' to make me feel bad about losing my job it ain't working," Shinji said, trying to sound just as indifferent as he kept most emotion from his voice, letting his eyes gaze off to a random spot in the sky, as if Aizen wasn't worth even a glance. "The way I see it that court case was a blessin'. Ya got all that cash and I got to be rid of the likes of you."

"Oh, I'm hurt."

Like hell he was, nobody who was hurt would declare it in such a high-pitched, whiney voice like a child in a Christmas play, sounding so fake and phoney that it would make most people cringe in disgust.

At the time – way back then – Shinji always knew Aizen to be a sarcastic, facetious, little dick-head but no one ever believed him, it was always 'oh, he's always sincere' or 'he's so kind, he always listens to me'. Well, now they believed him! Now they could look at him and see him for what he was, see that he had them all under a spell, see he was deceiving them all in order to steal what he wanted. Too late now though . . . Now his own teaching career was ruined, and Kisuke could never practise medicine again, all because Aizen had charged him with malpractice, all 'oh, I went to him for help and Shinji bribed him to send me away, and he was so mean, boohoo'. The jury brought it all up, of course they would, anyone who wasn't aware of Aizen's slimy side would buy it, but as for Shinji and Kisuke . . . Shinji had joined the Vizard and now had an eighth of the magazine company, and Kisuke was dabbling in back-alley medical care for the dodgy sorts, whilst illegally doing medical research with the sweet shop as a cover. The guy was sly as a fox, he'd never get caught, but Shinji felt rather guilty that because of his own issue with Aizen he'd ruined Kisuke's career too. Aizen however clearly couldn't give a rat's ass . . .

"Oh, Hirako-san," Aizen continued, "Did you come all this way to my home just to insult me? I am deeply offended. Will I need to add this emotional onslaught onto my already large list of legal complaints?"

"Actually I ain't here to insult ya. I'm here to talk about that legal suit ya got planned, so why don't we go inside and talk about it, okay, Sosuke?"

The smile on Aizen's face grew slightly, pulling in the corner as if to reveal a sudden all-knowing superiority, a kind of 'I know something you don't know' smile. His eyes were almost sultry with how small they'd become and he'd pressed his forearm against the doorframe, so he could lean forward but also hunch slightly, making him at eye-level with Shinji and adding a casual air about him, almost as if nonchalance was a word invented just for him.

"Oh? This is a problem. If I let you in then you make any accusation you so choose against me, but likewise I could say anything in the world about you also. Do you remember how ugly things became the last time it was my word against yours?"

"Yeah, well, last time I wasn't prepared to bargain with ya . . ."

"Bargaining will not work. You have nothing I want."

He loved the way Shinji expressed his disbelief. He wasn't the sort to truly roll his eyes; instead he always seemed to roll them halfway with a slight tilt of his head, then gaze half-heartedly at a fixed point in the sky. He'd never look directly at the person who he was talking to; instead he'd say his words casually to the air itself, almost as if he didn't care who heard or who didn't.

It was nice to see that he hadn't lost his laidback personality, that he could just let things roll off his shoulders like water from a duck's back. It made things more interesting that way, made the games they could play all the more interesting, and being who they were they both knew never to trust each other, in fact there wasn't one person in either of their lives they'd fully trust, and because of that there was an edge. It was because of that distrust their minds remained sharp, always looking for the moment the betrayal may come, always in constant competition with the other, always relishing in the adrenaline rush that came with such dangerous antics. The verbal spars and cruel jabs only seemed to heighten their anger, boil their rage and make the tension between them all the more exciting. Aizen adored that tension, always waiting for the moment the quiet would end and the storm would begin, waiting to win a blow against the blond and silently laugh at how the blonde never saw it coming. Gin and Tousen had both referred to it as sexual tension, as did Hiyori on several occasions when he crossed her path, and perhaps they were right, for what was better than the passionate sex that came from two beings who despised one another? Nothing, nothing could be sweeter.

He watched Shinji with a now interested smile, waiting to see how the blond would retort, to see what possible thing he could offer Aizen in order to win his interest. He was far from being an idiot, Shinji would not have came here unless he had something to offer that he felt the Arrancar could possibly want, and so that meant he had something to offer. It may be a mere apology, money or even his body, but he had something and Aizen wanted to know what, he wanted to know if whatever it was had a high enough price to make it worth wrenching from Shinji, because if it didn't . . . there was always the lawsuit.

"Actually I'm willing to give you whatever ya want," Shinji reluctantly admitted. "Hiyori's a good pal to me, I ain't gonna let you ruin her career like ya did mine and Kisuke's. So just name your price, alright?" Shinji turned to look at Aizen, and then suddenly a flash came across his face as he gave a rather pathetic smile, showing his upper teeth as he went back to his 'clueless' expression. "Oh, and I owe ya an apology from Vizard too, including an out of court settlement I'm willing to pay for myself."

"Oh? May I ask you why it is you and not Hiyori-chan herself who apologises or pays this settlement?"

Shinji clenched his hands tightly into fists, he was desperately trying not to retaliate or become violent, because the last thing he needed was a repeat of last time . . . He could still remember how he'd lunged at Aizen as his last thread of self-control snapped, and how he'd had to be dragged away by his friend and one of Aizen's little fuck-toys, a guy who now worked for him at his company, the company founded by Shinji's money. It made him wonder just how many other employees Aizen had his way with, and if Shinji remembered well he'd asked that moments after attacking Aizen. He'd said something along the lines of 'Yeah, trust you to get saved by that little whore of yours, better warn him and Gin, they get too involved with you they might get a lawsuit too.' Apparently insinuating Aizen and Gin were in a sexual relationship hadn't been the way to go, Aizen had not only decided to press charge for actual bodily harm, but he then had the press write up the whole debacle with the spin 'Sexual Deviant Attacks Blind Man' . . .

God, out of everyone in Vizard they sent him to deal with the whole issue. Bastards, they were such idiots, just because he was the 'unofficial leader' didn't mean it was up to him to go save the day all the time, besides didn't they remember everything that happened? They'd be lucky if he didn't leave Aizen's being sued for invading Poland or the bombing of Hiroshima, because – let's face it – Aizen was the sort to make any charges and the sort who knew how to make them stick too. If he came out and Hiyori ended up in more trouble than before then they couldn't blame him, they should have expected it.

"Truthfully," – well truthfully no one else wanted to speak to Aizen, most of them threatening physical violence on the man and one even threatening to throw a tantrum – "Hiyori is sorry for doin' what she did, but she ain't got a way with words, plus she ain't got the money to pay the settlement, also . . . like I said I'm also willing to do whatever it is you want, you think anyone else would be willing to do that? You just sign a paper to say you won't press charges and I'll do whatever ya say, if you like I'll even do it first and ya can sign after. Deal?"

"An apology from Hirako Shinji, an out of court settlement and your promise to be my willing slave? My, this is unexpected. I must wonder if you really think it's worth it, because who knows what I may ask of you . . ."

"I don't care. Ask me to clean ya car, fuck ya sideways or even sing the national anthem at Rangiku's Bar, I'll do it." Shinji shrugged, "What do you care? You want to take me up on my offer or not?"

He didn't want to admit that Hiyori already had a pretty long rap sheet, any more convictions or marks on her name and it'd lead to some pretty big trouble, not only that but one Vizard with a record of sexual harassment and another with grievous bodily harm . . . it could potentially lead to big losses in their company. Personally he'd rather be humiliated for a day and have a career left at the end, rather than try to save face and later lose it all for a second time. After a few moments of silence he looked up to see Aizen with a rare serious face, devoid of a smile . . .

"Please, come on in, Shinji," Aizen said softly, "and follow me."

He bit his tongue to hold back any snide remarks and quickly gave a short nod, showing his acknowledgment, before walking through the door that Aizen held graciously open for him.

The way Aizen stepped to one side with an innocent smile, the way his body language was slightly hunched over, the way he held onto the side of the door in a feminine or motherly way . . . It was like looking at the Aizen that they all used to 'know', the one that had won all their trust and the one who'd been so overtly kind to everyone. The sudden change in demeanour seemed almost mocking to Shinji, like Aizen was only acting this way to remind him of how he too had been deceived, it just reinforced the idea that here was a manner of many faces, able to look any way and do anything. He couldn't trust Aizen, but as long as he bore that in mind and looked beneath the underneath then he'd be fine. He just had to be prepared, because it was hard to screw someone over when they saw it coming, and – believe him – he'd definitely learnt his lesson from last time. He knew better than to trust Aizen or to assume he understood the man. This time he wouldn't allow himself to be screwed over.

He stepped inside and felt a slight brush of air as Aizen closed the door firmly behind them. It was a little disconcerting, making him feel like he was now trapped inside with a man he hated, but if it came down to a fight he was pretty sure he could take the brunet. After all Aizen wasn't the sort to look too hard at the people he saw as potential victims, meaning he had no idea just what Shinji was actually capable of, he'd always just assumed that what he saw with Shinji was what he got but it wasn't. Shinji had skills and talents that bastard wasn't even aware of, and he'd use them if the need came to it, although with all the security cameras and staff this place had he really hoped he wouldn't need to get physical in any way.

He followed Aizen as he walked tall and confidently through the hall and took a good look at him, the first real look he'd taken since . . . well . . . they were an unofficial 'couple'. The brunet was currently draped with a black, silk dressing-gown with matching bottoms, his hair was slightly mussed and his face – although of course perfect as ever – seemed to be slightly tired, kind of pulled in places like he really needed a good nights sleep. Granted it was probably about three in the morning, Shinji himself should have been fast asleep if it wasn't for all the hassle Hiyori had brought along to the party that night, so it was likely that Aizen had been headed for bed or even asleep when he found out about what had happened. The guy probably decided to get right on the case, never missing a chance to screw someone out of money, and had been working ever since on paperwork, phone calls and whatever else. In fact the slight ink stains on his long fingers seemed to indicate someone who'd just been writing, was he really that determined to screw Shinji over once more that he couldn't wait until morning? Bastard.

Then again what did Shinji care? He knew what Aizen was up to, he always had done, so it was barely a big surprise to see the little jackass playing such games, and as long as Shinji expected it he could counter it. Like he said, he was willing to give Aizen what he wanted, and he had a good idea what that'd be too. The way he saw it he was the one doing the manipulating this time, he was the one doing the using, and so if anything he was the one who should be happy too.

He grinned to himself as he followed Aizen, who was taking many twists and turns, taking a long time to finally find the room he seemed to be looking for. It was the first time ever setting foot in this house, because Lord knew that the little sadist hadn't been able to afford it on a teaching assistant's salary and with student debts. It was kind of shocking really, not that he hadn't expected such a blatant display of wealth and richness, but because he never thought such a huge-ass house could fit inside Japan, and better yet he didn't think for a moment Aizen would buy a house right opposite Shihoin Yoruichi!

He'd seen the place a few times when he'd been visiting or partying at Yoruichi's, but not once had anyone ever mentioned it belonging to the guy who'd ruined his career, but then again why would they? Kisuke had been his lover for a long while, a good friend too, and Yoruichi was a pretty empathetic gal, likely was they didn't want to make him stressed or have him walk over drunk one night to try and stab the guy. It was nice of them, but he'd have rather have found out from them than through Ichimaru Gin the night after Hiyori beat some blue-haired freak half to death. He hated talking to that slimy Gin guy, even now he was wondering why the man had willingly gave him the address and sent him on his way, it made him wonder if there was some plan or if the fox-faced man would later want something in return, it was all so suspicious . . . Then again Aizen really seemed surprised by him turning up, so maybe Gin hadn't told him . . . Maybe it wasn't Aizen that people had to watch out for, maybe the really manipulative, dishonest and conniving one was Gin . . . It wouldn't surprise Shinji if that's why Aizen kept the guy around so much, too scared to let him go because he knew deep down that the other man was so much smarter than he was, capable of destroying him in a heartbeat the same way he had to Shinji. Aizen was the sort, after all, to keep his friends close and enemies closer.

"I was previously in my office when you knocked," Aizen said warmly enough, "however I am afraid to say there are confidential papers in there that I do not wish for you to see, mainly perpetrating to the foul deed your cruel colleague has committed to my employee. That is why I wish to take our meeting in my private study instead."

"Thoughtful, ain't ya?"

"No, you are the thoughtful one," Aizen said with a smile, "with that settlement money I am sure Grimmjow will be able to pay off all his university debts and purchase a large apartment in a nice area. It's such a shame that at the moment he is forced to live apart from his baby sister and cousins, but with your money they can afford to live together and cut costs on childcare."

Shinji resisted the urge to wipe that smug smirk off from Aizen's face and instead stormed past him into the study. The room was large enough, quite big in fact compared to what Shinji was used to, but small compared to a rich man's standards. There was one window in a far corner with heavy drapes blocking out what little street light there was, and coupled with the high ceilings and comfy, traditional furniture it made the room feel enclosed, dark and oddly quite comforting, kind of like being wrapped in a blanket on a cold day. One entire wall was covered with books, all of them fiction novels and some even sappy, teenage romances, a fact that Shinji had to stop from laughing aloud at. What, was Aizen so consumed with work that the law books in his office became simply too much for him, that he was forced to read some sort of romance bordering on hentai love affairs to help himself cope? What a joke.

"If you are smirking at my book collection," Aizen said calmly, closing and locking the door behind him and hanging the key on a little hook to the side, "I must remind you that Gin is like a son to me, thus he spends a considerable amount of time lurking about my property, despite his protests how bored he is here. Those books you seem to deem inappropriate are some favourites of his, and I must say upon glancing through them that – although they are not rather prestigious – they surely provide a nice escape from reality into fantasy. Do you never feel the need, Shinji, to escape the past, or even the present, for a fleeting moment in the dreamlike nature of books? Gin's past has been somewhat unpleasant, I cannot fault him for wishing to read books of a more romantic, casual and light-hearted nature." He came close beside Shinji and pointed to several books to the right on a lower shelf, "You may notice these are in Braille, which I cannot read. You are foolish to make judgements based on circumstantial evidence."

Shinji clenched his fists and resisted the urge to hurt the other man. How was he expected to know that Gin spent a lot of time here? He barely knew the man, in fact he'd only spoken to him today because he'd needed to get Aizen's address, and even then he'd had to go through Byakuya to get Gin's contact information. It was obvious what Aizen would say to something like that though, something like if you didn't get to know a person – even one you hated – then you'd never truly see their betrayal coming. He'd hate to admit it but the guy was probably right, if Shinji had just taken a moment to get to know Aizen better then he would have seen the court-case coming miles before he actually did. Still, what pissed him off most wasn't that Aizen had made a point and been right, that he shouldn't have made a snap judgment or scoffed at another person's literary preferences . . . it was that Gin and Tousen obviously spent so much time here.

He could understand Gin being here a lot, after all Aizen was like a father-figure to him (apparently, personally he didn't buy that for a second) and being so broke himself he probably used Aizen's as a place to study, store things or even borrow things. It was pretty normal to go to your parents when you wanted a place to rest for a while, or even if you needed something because you were broke that week, hell Shinji had even 'visited' his mom several times a week just so he could get a free meal out of it. What Shinji didn't understand was why Tousen was here so much he needed to leave Braille books in Aizen's personal study. Wasn't the blind man dating Komamura? Wasn't he just an employee to Aizen? Oh for -! Why did Shinji even care? He certainly wasn't jealous after all, because who in their right mind would ever want Aizen for a lover? It was true Shinji couldn't turn to Kisuke anymore as the man was married, but there were still other guys happy to help him out with his needs, so he had no reason to even think that way about Aizen. No reason at all! No, let those two minions leave whatever they wanted here, Shinji didn't and wouldn't care, in fact he'd rather go back to Old Yamamoto's university and teach there again than to spend one minute in Aizen's company. He wasn't jealous, he just wasn't.

He turned and saw Aizen sitting down casually in a large, leather chair. His legs were crossed at the knee, his elbows resting on each armrest with his hands meeting before his face, touching at the fingertips. He was gazing at Shinji with complete interest, a look that seemed to imply he was analysing the blonde and trying to unravel whatever mystery he held, almost like a man working out a puzzle on a page or an issue in a classroom. The smirk on his face seemed rather sadistic also, kind of like he had plans for Shinji which he probably did in all honesty, but when couple with that expression in his eyes it seemed to suggest he was trying to work something out, kind of like he was trying to envision how Shinji might react or where things might go. It was kind of stupid in his opinion to start thinking about things now, because frankly not only had he taken Shinji up on his offer to do whatever Aizen said, but he'd clearly had something already in mind, obvious by the way he'd locked the door behind them and sat expectantly on his chair.

It was strange really because he personally thought Aizen would be a lot more creative than asking for something as simple as sex, but hey, Aizen was a pretty good lay – his best ever if he had to be honest – and it wasn't as though Shinji was seeing anyone right now for it to be cheating. It worked out pretty well for him too, he had expected to be humiliated or made to suffer, but an apology, giving out a bit of cash and then a night of awesome sex seemed pretty good to him . . . Yeah, Aizen had to be getting old or lazy as far as 'punishments' were concerned, because frankly this was way lame compared some of the things he'd done in the past. Still, Shinji wasn't going to complain, he hadn't gotten any for a while and it wasn't exactly torture to spend a morning with a hot guy, even if you did hate him.

"So," Aizen said with a smile, moving his hands so as to allow himself to lean upon the right in a casual manner, "you offered me a settlement and to do as I so wish, is that right? Very well, before you leave we shall write out the paperwork and you will write the cheque for the settlement, ready for me to give it to Grimmjow tomorrow afternoon. The writing shall ensure I get the money from you and it shall also ensure that I will not seek further damages from Hiyori-chan."

"Sounds good t' me," Shinji shrugged.

"Now, as for your promise to do whatever I wish . . ."

Great, here it came, an obvious proposition for sex. It'd probably be something straightforward, like just a regular go in bed or something, but knowing Aizen as he did there was always a strong chance for something more kinky or different, but he doubted the brunet would be able to come up with something like that on the spur of the moment. If they were going to use toys they'd have to be prepared, and anything in public needed a damn good escape plan in case things went wrong, especially with them both being in the public eye now. He kind of had to wonder who'd be on top too. Five times out of ten it was always Aizen, but sometimes Shinji would take control, like in that stupid video that Aizen had recorded without him knowing about, not that it hadn't been good but worth all the money he had to pay? No chance.

" . . . I believe we can begin with you barking like a dog."

Shinji jumped out of his distracted train of thought at once. He looked at Aizen with an expression as if to say 'are you crazy', although his eyes still seemed pretty heavy and his mouth as taut and serious as ever, but Aizen would no doubt see the shock seeping through regardless. If this was some 'new' kind of kinky game it was beyond weird, and so not worth it even if it would get Hiyori off the hook. She totally owed him for whatever was about to come.

"Ya want me t' what?" He snapped back.

"Bark like a dog," Aizen replied, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint. "That's just the start of course but it would be a very good place to start. I know how much you despise bowing down before me, so it shall be a pleasure to see the great Hirako Shinji give into my whimsical desires. I can only hope this experience won't humiliate you." He smirked again and leant back in his chair, "My favourite breed has always been a border collie, and so perhaps you could use that as your basis for your bark."

"Ya got t' be joking, Aizen . . ."

"Hmm, I think I'd prefer if you called me 'Master' for this little exercise." His eyes took on a darker gleam, "Although perhaps much later, when your humiliation is over, I shall have the pleasure of hearing you utter 'Sosuke'."

Shinji fisted his hands and glared at Aizen with as much hatred as he could muster. No wonder he'd locked the door, it wasn't because he didn't want anyone 'walking in' but so he could he could control the exact level of humiliation dished out! That fact he was implying sex later was probably a lie, he probably wanted to keep Shinji waiting for more – not that he wanted more, Aizen could go fuck himself for all he cared – but then he'd deny Shinji, leaving him frustrated and even more humiliated at the idea there could have been sex. Not that he cared, he was more bothered about what other games Aizen was planning, what would come after he'd successfully barked? Would he expect him to play fetch or maybe just 'roll over'? That bastard! One of these days Shinji would kill him, he really would, and so why was it he couldn't help but wonder when he'd be next visiting Yoruichi, wondering if he could get away with a drunken visit over to this damned place? That stupid, goddamned, evil, fu-!

"I'm waiting, pet."

Shinji growled loudly, he hadn't meant to but he was just so damned pissed off, hopefully Aizen would just assume it was from his doglike act and not a complete loss of emotion, the last thing he wanted was for Aizen to know that he had the upper hand.

"Yes," He said, filling his finally word full of hate, "Master."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Yumichika was almost famous for having an eye for beauty (almost as much as he was well known for being utterly appealing physically); this of course made him rather successful as a photographer. His photographs were set out in frames on his walls, or collected in the large volumes of photo albums. Sometimes when he was waiting for Yumichika to get home, or finish preening, he'd go through them. There was an interesting range of parks, animals, forests, historical places, pretty buildings, light hitting objects at a beautiful angle… and a couple of people (a small set of photo's of Rangiku were incredibly sought after). Yet there were none of Hisagi. Infact from looking through the photo's Yumichika's general lack of high school and middle school friends was completely exposed. Ikkaku had always been an out-going, social guy who made friends easily. It was something he'd never found difficult. But Yumichika, despite being out-going once he was with a group of people, never went out of his way to make friends. It wouldn't bother him if he sat alone, or with people he wasn't particularly close with. To put it into perspective, Ikkaku would guess the best example was that Rangiku was probably the person he was closest too (prior to being involved with Renji or Shuhei), and he and the busty woman didn't get along. Anyone he was close with was up to twenty years older than him, the only friend his own age appeared to be Hisagi Shuhei. The beautiful man spent his teens sitting at the grown-ups table as one of them, which was a little ironic now when considering his lover was nearly four years his junior.

After last night, Ikkaku felt so damn lucky to be were he was now. Not in school, not at home, sat on Yumichika's bed, riffling through his belongings, while the love of his life was showering away in the next room. He also felt considerably lucky that he didn't have a hang-over… He'd called Kenpachi this morning, only to find the line occupied… and later to be told by Mr… Kenpachi's assistant with the moustache… that Zaraki-Sensei was out of town. He'd called in school (on instruction of Yumichika) to report himself ill, and from checking his phone he discovered that most people from the party had. Yumichika, ever since that stupid night, was no longer inclined to let him skip school in order to just lounge about at his place, but considering Ikkaku was still gloomy about the Hisagi thing, he couldn't really deny him one day with his lover. Today Ikkaku had struck gold.

He hummed to himself and took out another piece of candy (a present Yumichika had been given from a fan a few days ago), it was a sweet strawberry flavour, he wriggled out, making sure his feet didn't touch the pillows… something that would probably result in being thrown out by his ear. The bald man flicked to the next page of photo's, he had been looking at a lovely one Yumichika had taken of himself on Tokyo tower. With a small sigh, he caught sight of one of the more artistic photos in the back of the album; it was one he'd always assumed his boyfriend had taken in class. It depicted a muscled back with flexed arms and hands resting on the back of the neck at the base, lower down, it also showed off a nice round and generally very tight looking butt. Normally he'd pass over it and skip onto the next album, which had a lot of nice action shots of the kendo team in combat… but this time something caught his attention.

A tattoo on one of those firm upper-arms… the same patterned tattoo on Shuhei Hisagi's arm. And one closer inspection, he could see dark hair just above the hands… Holy shit, this was a naked photograph of Yumichika's first fuck buddy. He'd never asked Ikkaku to pose for him like that – and he knew there was one of Renji at one point (but it had been deleted as the redhead felt embarrassed about being pictured naked like that). And he'd taken something so shamelessly erotic of fucking Hisagi?

No – maybe he was jumping to conclusions… afterall; it wasn't like Hisagi was the only person in the whole world to have that sort of a tattoo. This was high school or even university… lots of people had tattoos! If he went off on one about this and it wasn't a photo of the older man, then he'd look like an idiot and Yumichika would laugh at him.

"What are you doing, Ikkaku?"

The bald man slammed the album shut and cast a look over at his boyfriend, who entered the room wearing a light blue bathrobe, his hair was perfectly smooth, which meant he'd most likely spent the last fifteen minutes preening before he came out to present himself to Ikkaku.

"Just looking through your photos," he shuffled on the bed to make room for him. If he had to think about it, he couldn't remember seeing Yumichika in a natural state… the other man had always done something special before he saw him, like in the morning, he always made some sort of effort to be up and stunning before Ikkaku was awake. Not that he was going to object to having an utterly jaw-dropping boyfriend, but in his opinion Yumichika wouldn't be any less beautiful without all that hard work. Still, it made him happy to make an effort, so who was he to put him in a situation where he felt uncomfortable?

"Aha," he climbed onto the bed gracefully, raising a hand to place it on Ikkaku's back, rubbing along his spine before resting upon his shoulder, sending shivers down his spine, "Oh yes, my hair was so long back then," he chuckled, flipping back to a rather flattering photograph of himself in New York. Back in his high school years Yumichika had hair down past his shoulders, he sometimes wore it in a ponytail, but here in the photo it was long and flowing past his slim shoulders. He looked truly lovely, perfect skin, perfect hair… it was easy to see why he'd been signed onto a modelling contract as soon as he was out of school.

Ikkaku tilted up on the bed to capture his lips in a kiss, holding Yumichika's chin in place so he was leaning down to kiss him. He felt those soft hands reach down, one settling on his shoulder, the other cupping the back of his head, stroking along the bare skin. He felt Yumichika tilt down to lie on his back, his hands moving to Ikkaku's back, pulling him almost ontop of him, breaking the kiss for moment, before pulling the younger back. It had been a rare thing for the two of them to be intimate like this, ever since the drunkern fighting incident Yumichika hadn't made love to him since the night he was let out of hospital; it was almost heavenly to be like this now, Ikkaku could see his lover's soft white skin as the bath-robe began to open, feel the tenderness and heat in his kiss. He was almost terrified he was going to get excited and ready for the unsaid promise of sex, only for Yumichika to tell him to 'go take a cold shower' or he 'needed to work'…

He had to test the theory… reaching down he clasped onto the tie on the bath robe and tugged it open. The other day they'd been making out at his place, and he'd attempted to give him a rub-job through his jeans and Yumichika had pushed him off… despite the fact Ikkaku was sure he was going to get lucky… He had to make sure now wasn't going to be like last time.

Alright, the tie was off… Ikkaku peered up at Yumichika's face, and smirked a little when he saw the others slightly flushed cheeks, his eyes closed and his face pressing against the covers, his whole body looked like it was tingling for intimate touch. Despite his restraint (his God-given restraint!), Yumichika wasn't a perfect human being, no sex and all this fore-play had to be messing with him too. Still, what was with this sudden change of heart? Just yesterday he'd told Ikkaku to get off again… Maybe it had something to do with last night's _revelation_.

"Hey, are you just being so nice because you think I'm mad?"

And painfully so, he'd actually hit the nail on the head there… Yumichika peered up at him with a nervous smile, "Erm… are you still mad?"

Ikkaku frowned, lifting his arms so he was pinning Yumichika to the bed, sitting ontop of his waist. He'd never force his lover to do anything he didn't want too, but sometimes it was fun to tease the beautiful man by showing off his physical strength over him. He leant down and nipped at Yumichika's ear, "I just don't see why you didn't tell me before."

He scowled and shook his head back and forth to try and get Ikkaku's lips away from his ear, once the other was at a good distance away; Yumichika looked up at him with an exasperated expression, "Because you'd react like this."

"That isn't true! I only reacted like I did because I was told by a drunken Renji! If you'd told me months ago that you used to fool around with that dick-head pretty boy, I wouldn't have cared!"

"Don't even lie!" Yumichika snapped at him, turning his head to one side, his nose wrinkled in distaste, "You know as well as I that you'd lose your temper and stomp your feet no matter when I told you! And I don't even see why it's relevant!"

The bald teenager scowled and bit Yumichika on the shoulder lightly, but enough to snap the other out of his ranting, "Hey! It is relevant! You both work for Vizard – you think I'm not gonna be funny about you being in close conditions with your ex?"

"We weren't even dating! Ikkaku, I've seen him at work, you're acting childishly, let me up – and bite me again you'll loose something."

Ikkaku pouted his bottom lip and kissed Yumichika tenderly on the mouth, softening his approach and deepening the kiss, stroking his boyfriend's shoulder lovingly to calm him down. He broke the kiss and shot him a sad little smile, "Is it because he had hair?"

Yumichika burst out laughing, he broke a hand free to cover his mouth as he sniggered, before laying it back down on the bed, pecking him on the cheek, "You know, it's sort of cute when you're like this."

"Don't even," he grumbled. See, Yumichika was going to laugh at him…

"Oh, Ikkaku… Ikkaku, Ikkaku, I love you," the older boy chuckled and wrapped both of his legs around him as a sort of lower down hug, nuzzling his neck as Ikkaku leant in closer to him. The two of them stayed that way for a few minutes, nestling into each other's embrace, Ikkaku with his nose against Yumichika's hair, still holding his hands down ontop of the others wrists.

"So," he said after the longest time, "are there any other skeletons in the closet I should know about?"

"Well… nope, none that I am aware of."

"So you and Hisagi then?"

He sighed heavily, "Yes, Ikkaku. Me and Hisagi."

"Was it… good?" He was teasing him now, Yumichika was clearly uncomfortable on this topic, and although he was curious, it was funny to see him all evasive and pinned under him.

"Maybe."

"So he was very good then?" he taunted, "Was he your first?"

There was a pause; Yumichika's face went pink, "Yes."

Well at least that made him the third… if it turned out there was more than just two before him; he'd feel a bit pissed.

Ikkaku nodded his head, then rubbed his own head a little nervously, "Erm, say, Yumi, did you ever take any naked pictures of Hisagi?" 

In the slightest corner of his eyes, something flinched. Yumichika laughed a little nervously, "No."

"Are you being serious? You were _seeing_ someone with that charming princely look and you didn't take any photos?"

Yumichika swallowed and looked across at the wall, "Well… there were photos, but I have them to Shu – Hisagi-san."

"You didn't even keep one as a keepsake?"

"Ikkaku, you're making me sound like some sort of a stalker," he said in a cold blunt voice, his eyes narrowed as he gazed up at his boyfriend. "I mean, I didn't have any of these… _keepsakes_ when I broke up with Renji."

Ikkaku scowled and leant back, he had to voice it now otherwise it would bug him, he scooped up the photo album from the edge of the bed and flicked to the page with the naked man, "Alright, then tell me this isn't Hisagi! It has his tattoo!"

Yumichika's face had never looked so flushed, his wisteria eyes instantly reverted towards the wall, "That was for college work."

"That's not answering my question."

"I think this is getting a little stupid…"

"Come off it, it is him! Why'd you take so many photos of him? You said you gave him some. You never asked for a photo of me."

"Fine, it's him, okay?" he snapped, his eyes drawn into a complete expression of irritation, "Are you happy now, Ikkaku? It's a photo of Hisagi-san."

Ikkaku glanced back at the photo… Damnit, not only was Hisagi was bloody pretty boy but he had a nice body too… and hair. He had short dark hair most girls just wanted to run their fingers through. And he was so charismatic and likeable… Yumichika had totally been with a guy like this!

"Do you like him more than me?"

"Well… he never sat ontop of me and asked stupid question…"

His face fell… Yumichika rolled his eyes, "Oh you idiot, I'm joking. I couldn't have liked him that much because we didn't date."

Ikkaku bit his lower lip, juggling his options, he half wanted to sulk and get over it… have Yumichika just laugh a little more and overall just calm down. On the other hand he could let his passion rule him, straddle the other and just take him right there and then – he had to claim him and just show him who was in charge!

Who was he kidding? What he needed to do was perfectly clear. Who on earth would pick having their lover smirk and laugh at them, over wiping that smirk off his stupid beautiful face and fucking him into the sheets?

"Ikkaku, come on, let me up," he rolled his eyes, pushing at his shoulders, sitting upright and wriggling back against the wall, "Sometimes I forget how… immature you can be," he taunted, pinching his cheek.

That tone was just asking for it!

Ikkaku grabbed ahold of the hand pinching his cheek and pinned it down to the bed, his other hand fastened on Yumichika's hip, yanking him down onto his back with one swift tug. The beautiful man yelped and turned his head to the side, instantly using his other hand to jerk his palm against Ikkaku's chin, "Hey – Ikkaku!" 

The bald man didn't look like he wanted to listen; he snarled a little, his lips twisting into an aggressive smirk, his hand lifted from his hip and seized the others wrist (jerked against his chin) and pinned it down beside the other, clasping both of Yumichika's wrists together under the pressure of one of his hands. He glanced down at his boyfriend, who looked considerably furious with him… his bath robe was coming open; he could see one perky pink nipple exposed. Ikkaku's eyes swept along the body pinned to the bed beneath him, he smirked, grinding his hips up and down against his lover, wanting to get Yumichika to loose all his composure sooner rather than later.

"For fucks sake," Yumichika grumbled, whimpering and twisting his body to the side a little, trying to dislodge the younger man, "Get off my wrists – this is not beautiful!"

"Oh shut it," he muttered, bending his head and capturing the revealed nipple between his lips, he nipped it, smirking at the sound of his lover releasing a soft 'ooh' sound. He pulled back to examine a haze of crimson on Yumichika's face, before he lowered his head again and gave the nipple a tender lick, lowering his hand to undo the tie on his bathrobe, opening it up and lifting it out to reveal that gorgeous body. Glancing back briefly at his lover he could see the embarrassment on his face at being stripped like this. "You've been holding out on me, Yumichika," he purred, "You know how I get when you hold out on me."

Yumichika shifted his hips, "Oh don't even! You know what I said about you touching me after the shit you pulled-!"

"Well, it's been a little while, and there's been a few revelations since then, haven't there?" he grinned wider, lowering a hand and pressing it against one of the others long legs, he rubbed along the flesh gently, letting his hand trace down to the inner thigh, before yanking it upright and onto his shoulder.

The beautiful man rolled his eyes, turning his face irritably to the side, "Oh for fucks sake…"

Ikkaku licked his lower lip, his lover was well known for being super-humanly stubborn… Oh well; he had the next few hours to change his mind.

The house was in an unbelievable state of disarray. Renji could feel sympathetic eyes on his back as he scrubbed at the bathroom floor, dried vomit didn't exactly smell like a basket of flowers… and it certainly wasn't the kind of thing you wanted to do whilst sporting a hang-over. He remembered little of last night, just something about Hisagi-senpai and Yumichika. He also remembered talking to Ichigo, though after that seemed to have descended into waking up and vomiting all over Kisuke's feet… Infact for a few minutes he wondered why he was still alive.

"Hey, Renji-kun, want a drink?"

He brushed his bandana up a little, and peered over his shoulder at Isshin Kurosaki, who was carrying a tray full of tea. Ichigo's dad was a ridiculously nice guy, even if he was a little enthusiastic and scary; he was always smiling and constantly bothering his children. If Renji remembered correctly, he could distinctly picture the man chasing his daughter Karin down the street, trying to give her a kiss goodbye before she went to school. Good God, that girl could run! Isshin Kurosaki was definitely something of a family man; although, there wasn't much of a family resemblance between him and Ichigo. He'd seen a photograph (well, you couldn't exactly miss a giant wall-sized picture on a kitchen) of Ichigo's mother, he mostly took after her. Infact there wasn't even a family resemblance in behaviour either… Isshin was loud and excitable, and Ichigo was stern, self-conscious and irritable.

Isshin was no-where near as mean as Kisuke… Renji thought to himself as he smiled gently at the older man, "Thanks, that'd be great!"

"Well here ya go, gotta keep your strength up, eh?" he handed him one of the larger cups, "I have to offer one of these to the others."

Kisuke and Isshin had roped a few others into helping out around the house. That freaky Luppi guy was still here (well his friend (that Stark guy) had apparently told him to 'do one' when he tried to get in a taxi with them), so Kisuke had him vacuuming and scrubbing the floor. There were also a few drunkern teenagers around doing various chores, but none of them were as nasty at this bathroom job. He'd spotted a set of girls who were allowed to just take out the trash, and then Tessai gave them a ride home… (Of course he'd later learnt that they were a friend of a friend to Tessai in some way, but it was still unfair.) Renji wanted nothing more right now to be at home in bed like Ikkaku.

He could hear Isshin down the stairs, chatting reassuringly to a boy who was crying (after waking up and finding himself covered in his own vomit and stinking of whisky). What a great guy!

Though Kisuke wasn't a bad father – infact he was great too, too bad he was mean as a snake and craftier than a fox. He knew how to teach his kids a lesson… Tessai was lovely too, just scary. They'd tell him off for this and that, make him do some nasty chores, but they were also supportive of nearly everything he tried. They'd been great when Yumichika broke up with him, infact they were great about him dating a guy anyway (not that they could really object to it). Isshin Kurosaki was supportive of Ichigo too; infact Renji had heard him talking on the phone to that blue-haired jackass earlier… something about Grimmjow staying the night at the Kurosaki place. Karin and Yuzu were there, so he hoped Ichigo and Grimmjow hadn't been _getting down to business_.

Renji turned back with a little disgust on his face as he noticed a load of clumped up hair in the bath-tub – fowl! He'd been in here for nearly and hour and it still didn't look much better! Well, at least you could see tiles now.

"It smells better in here."

He turned his head again to see Uryu Ishida leaning against the door frame. Just looking at him made Renji feel somewhat ticked off… He was wearing his pyjamas, looking well-rested and perfectly serine.

"Yeah, an hour of work will get the vomit out of things."

"It's a shame really. Ryuken would have been furious… he only recently had this bathroom re-furbished," he trailed pale hand over wall tiles.

Renji rolled his eyes, and grunted angrily. This was so annoying – why was he cleaning Ishida's house, when Ishida seemed to be so happy about living in a house that stank of teenage craziness? It was just a waste of time if the owner of the house wasn't even happy about the cleaning!

"What the hell's gotten into you?" he grumbled, not looking at the slender boy as he kept scrubbing, "You're normally so pristine and stuff, Quincy boy."

"I don't believe that's any of your business."

The redhead tossed a dirty rag at him, "Oh get over yourself – I'm cleaning your bathroom, you poncy little git!"

Uryu let out a disgusted sound and stepped out of the way of the vomit covered rag, kicking it aside with his white slipper, "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Try me!"

He shrugged his shoulders, "I'm acting like a teenager."

"You don't know how to be a teenager – you're wearing old men's pyjamas!"

"These pyjamas are extremely comfortable to sleep in. You're still wearing the same disgusting shirt as last night. At least I don't smell like vomit."

Renji was too exhausted for this; his head was killing him… "Whatever," he said, knowing it must sound childish and pathetic, but that was just about all he could muster. "My head hurts, go give someone else your shit."

"You were really drunk last night," he said after a long pause, "Urahara-san made you clean up the mess you made in the living room?" He didn't think it would be kind to mention that there was still sick in Renji's hair…

"He did," he mumbled.

"You asleep on the living room floor, Madarame-san asleep in the flower beds," he made a small tutting sound, "The two of you were like a pair of delinquents."

"Beat it."

"Poor Grimmjow-san, he gets assaulted on his way home, and has some _drunkern leech_ kiss his boyfriend right infront of him."

The other's tone was enough to tell Renji who exactly had kissed Ichigo… He went completely pale and for a minute was sure he'd vomit again. Shit! It wasn't like he'd never wanted too – he'd wanted to rebound onto Ichigo for months – the orange haired boy had been his first crush since before he knew Yumichika existed. But the fact he'd done something as bold as kissing him while he was drunk – it was a miracle he didn't have a huge black eye… Ichigo wouldn't have hesitated to kick his ass.

Which begs the question – why had nobody beaten him up? Surely if not Ichigo, Grimmjow struck him as the possessive type.

Uryu sat on the bath-tub side, peering down at Renji, "Remember anything else, Abarai-kun?"

"I didn't… Did I?" he asked nervously… part of him wishing Uryu was kidding, and part of him hoping he wasn't (he could hardly believe his own nerve, kissing Ichigo with Grimmjow in the same room!).

"Oh you did," he nodded his head, pushing his glasses further up his nose; "Grimmjow knocked you on the floor. It was a nice job actually, who knows what else your drunkern little mind would have considered a good idea."

Well that made sense… he did remember falling on the ground… Infact he also remembered a pain in his left leg, almost like someone had stepped on it. Still he should be thankful it was only that. But that definitely didn't explain Ichigo – the other boy was always so quick to smack him one for as little as leaning in too close to him… "What about Ichigo?"

"Ichigo was drunk too," Uryu said after a moment's pause, "I think after it happened he went to sleep on the sofa. At least he wasn't sick on it; I don't think the stains on the sofa will come out." His tone at that last comment was grave, shaking his head for effect. Although the smirk on his pale face sort of betrayed any portrayal of feeling sorry for his actions.

So Ichigo was like Izuru, and lost his personal bubble with a bit of magic potion in him? That was certainly something he'd make note of for later: delightful.

"Oh well, Mr Perfect," Renji grumbled at him, "Did you get drunk? Kiss any one?"

"I didn't touch a drop of that poison."

Despite his position (and it was a dreadful one: cleaning vomit off surfaces), Renji couldn't help but laugh at Uryu's completely disgusted tone at the consideration he'd been drinking.

"Ah, oh well. I guess your plan failed."

"What?"

Uryu stepped upright, crouching down so he and Renji were facing each other, he was scowling slightly, "What do you mean 'your plan failed'?"

"Well, whether or not the house is a mess, Mr Ryuken Ishida is gonna come home to a recently cleaned house, apologetic friends who've taken care of everything… and a son who, despite throwing the party, didn't touch a drop of alcohol, shag anyone or break anything. What a good boy." Renji shot Uryu a mocking smile, flashing shiny white teeth, "So all this effort was… sort of for nothing, see?"

That sure as hell wiped the smug look off his face.

The redhead laughed to himself, "Bet you hadn't considered that. And isn't your Dad like, due back in the next fifteen minutes? Now, considering your downstairs looks almost perfect, Kisuke and Isshin have all sorts of apologies and reassurances, and his dear son looks like he's had a good nights sleep, wearing clean pyjamas and not covered in love-bites, vomit or the smell of booze… I think he won't feel too bad."

"Don't be an idiot – the house is hardly immaculate!"

Renji just shrugged his shoulders, "Kisuke and Isshin will say 'Uryu threw a party, don't be too upset with him. Boys will be boys, at least he wasn't irresponsible'. And there you are the evidence of just how good you were."

Uryu stood up and turned towards the door, looking a little frantic. Damnit, Renji was right – was there any alcohol left? He was sure he'd heard Urahara-san say something about locking it in the garage! He wouldn't need to drink any, but he could still pour it over his clothes and then put his clothes on?

"I wouldn't bother, Ishida. There's no way in hell you'll pull it off. You value yourself too much to drink or make yourself sick… So you're pretty much stuck as you are."

"Actually," Uryu turned back towards him, getting down on his knees, "There's one more thing I can do before he gets here."

Renji wasn't sure where this going, or if he'd like where it lead, "Oh yeah? And what is that?"

A slender hand clasped onto his chin, and Renji's eyes widened as he saw Ishida's face coming dangerously close to his. He parted his lips in protest, until he felt a softer set upon his own. He let out a muffled noise, attempting to turn his chin out of Uryu's hold, but stopped, calming down as he felt his body responding to the kiss. The first real kiss he remembered since Yumichika's last. His eyes closed and he felt a flush dance over him, raising a hand to clasp onto Uryu's pyjama clad shoulder.

Ryuken cast a dark gaze towards the garage, the door was open and he could see a huge stack of alcohol inside. Now at first he might have been tipped off by the neighbours peering around at the front of his house, some of them looking at him with sympathy as he climbed out of his car. He wondered why the garage door was open… and why there was so much alcohol there. As a doctor he tried to keep himself in best order, apart from smoking, he rarely drank, didn't take drugs and kept his body healthy. Isshin claimed to have quit smoking, he'd say (probably thinking he sounded very bad ass) that he only smoked one cigarette when he went to visit his wife's grave on the day she died, to this Ryuken would hold up his packet and say, 'Oh, so you wouldn't like one then?' It was cruel, but there was something satisfying about his friend's expression.

So the alcohol wasn't his… and normally he wouldn't think Uryu would purchase that sort of thing. As well as being underage (and he was pretty sure his son didn't have any irresponsible over 18 friends), Uryu was keen to become a doctor too, and made it his business to have no addictive habits. Ryuken walked to his garage, and bent down a little, peering at the small pile… bottles of beer, a six pack of larger, a half empty bottle of whisky, a flask with RUM written on a post-stick note on it, a few bottles of a bright blue liquid… and a bottle of vodka (seemingly unopened). Truly a real good high schooler's stash…

Suddenly his mind drifted back to his argument with Uryu the morning he left… If memory served correct, he'd said something about his son not behaving like a real teenager? Good God, the boy could be pedantic.

"Ishida – it's not what it looks like!"

He rolled his eyes… now he was getting interested. Turning around he saw Kurosaki, holding a tray with what appeared to be cups of tea on it, wearing a white bandana on his head, khaki shorts, no shirt and a chef's apron with the words 'Kiss the Chef' faded on it. Under his bulging left arm, he was carrying what appeared to be a teenage girl.

"What does it look like?" He asked, keeping his tone dangerously calm, and grimacing slightly as he saw vomit dripping down from the girl onto his nice white outdoor tiles.

Isshin looked a little worried for an answer, then he heard the girl groaning, and let out a worried yelp, sitting her upright on a flower-bed, and placing the bucket (he'd carried in his left hand) under her chin.

"Luppi-san, Luppi-san, here, please keep ahold of the bucket."

"Urgh… shit…"

_Shit_ indeed. He recognized that voice. The 'girl' he'd been sure Kurosaki was carrying a minute ago, was actually one of the Arrancar lawyers, a twenty-seven-year-old man to be exact. He wondered mockingly for a moment if Luppi Trepadora wore skin tight snake skin shorts to work, or if it was just a party thing.

"Ah, Ishida-san, I see you're home!"

He turned around to see Kisuke at his side, beaming at him. So if he had to make a good guess, he'd say Uryu was responsible for this, and somehow (perhaps through Kurosaki's son) his two friends had gotten light of this and intervened.

"Is it safe to assume Uryu is responsible for this?" Ryuken asked, inspecting his nails and wondering if he'd have felt better about this if he hadn't just been on a 12 hour flight…

"Well, Ishida," Kurosaki spoke up, diving towards his side and clasping an arm around his shoulders (Something he really hated him doing as it made him look notoriously skinny), "I'd rather think of it as your boy showing off his bright youthfulness! I mean, think about it, if he acted like an old man, would you get to experience his tender excitement over boyish things?"

Ryuken raised a thoroughly irked eyebrow, "Kurosaki, my son is fifteen, not twelve."

Kisuke stepped forward and patted him gently on the arm, "I think what Kurosaki-san means is that when it comes down to it all, boys will be boys. We have the house nearly cleaned up, with the help of a few stragglers, like Luppi-san here," he gestured to the lawyer vomiting into a bucket and laughed politely, "Just punish your son and don't think too hard on it."

The white haired man took a deep breath, "After my house is in order, and I've thanked the two of you for all this trouble, my son and I will be having serious words."

Kurosaki patted him on the back, "On a slightly brighter note, Ishida, Uryu-kun didn't touch the alcohol, or cigarettes, or do anything irresponsible. Even resisting the temptation of the opposite sex; that's reassuring, right?"

Renji let out a soft gasp as he felt a hand slide between his legs as the clasp on his belt came undone, sliding down his zipper; his eyes roll back slightly as those smooth beautiful fingers rubbed against his cock. The redhead felt his hair fall down his shoulders, knowing it was wrong, knowing he shouldn't…

"Ah – Ishida, we shouldn't…" he released a whimper as the other man's thin lips pressed against the sensitive skin of his earlobe. "Your dad – h-he'll be back soon…"

The dark haired boy pulled his hand out, reaching up to hold onto Renji's shoulders, kissing him gently.

It had been so long for Renji, a teenage boy, to feel an intimate touch, to have lips on his, lips on his skin, his ears, and his neck, to have his arms around a smaller body, gripping it and holding it. This was so weird, he was making out with Ishida, Ishida who had fashion magazines and sewed! Mr Quincy Pants!

He couldn't even help himself! He wanted more – Renji reached up and yanked at Uryu's top few buttons on his pyjama's, he pulled the shirt open, revealing more of that soft pale skin. He needed to feel it under his fingers, pushing back Uryu's head to kiss and tease the flesh of his neck. He revelled in the soft gasps of the other boy, pressing his body up against him, and reaching down to grip his backside.

Uryu gasped, holding Renji's head by his neck, encouraging him to suck and nibble on his flesh… keeping his hand down there, not removing the now firm erection from his boxer shorts, but teasing him through the material. He moaned as he felt the red head suck upon a particularly sensitive place on his neck – oh, that did feel good!

"Hello, Uryu-kun, your father is home, Uryu-kun?"

He could hear footsteps on the landing. Renji was too busy being in la-la land to recognize them… but he could hear the murmurs of Urahara-san and Ryuken… along with the loud calls of Kurosaki-san. Alright, it was now or never!

"Ah – Renji-kun – Renji-kun – there – right there!"

Renji blinked, taking his lips from Uryu's neck; briefly letting his eyes run across the red marks he'd made… he caught sight of the other's face, blue eyes focused on the door to the landing. Why was he making noises like they were…?

He wanted to ask, when all of a sudden, the door rammed open, revealing a very concerned looking Kurosaki-san. Shit – he could see Kisuke and Ishida-san all stood behind him, looking… well, he chose to leap to his feet and start doing up his belt rather than look into the face of his father… Uryu stood up, folding his arms, and looking fairly flushed, "Couldn't you knock?"

'Couldn't you knock?' Was he trying to get them killed? Renji looked at the other boy in horror – why was Uryu shifting his weight slightly, almost like a guy who'd just had a good fucking… Shit!

Renji remembered starting to stutter, something like 'It's not what it looks like', the classic. But what he actually ended up saying was, 'He's still a virgin', which was not only totally inappropriate, but sounded like a complete and utter lie.

Ryuken Ishida stepped into the room, seized his son by the wrist and yanked him outside and into one of the other rooms. Seconds later Renji heard raised voices, and the door slamming. He looked up with wide frightful eyes, and the look on Kisuke's face made him wish he could just faint.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen  
by Rob

It hadn't been a pleasant morning by any stretch of the imagination . . . In fact it had been a constant string one bad events, one horrific incident after the other, which had left Kisuke bordering somewhere between exhausted and psychopathic.

There was a part of him that just longed for sleep, to just rest his head on a nice soft pillow and pretend like nothing bad had happened whatsoever, knowing that when he woke up he'd be nice and refreshed and could hopefully forget the day before. There was also the other part of him that kept ticking away, that anger that was bubbling beneath the surface and threatened to boil over, that sense of frustration and anger that wanted nothing more than to hurt someone but knew that it couldn't, a feeling of constraint that he couldn't shake because to do so would be to let loose and explode. He knew his friends probably considered him mature, responsible and level-headed, not rising to the bait or taking his anger out on those around him, that they thought of him as a perfect father who had not once expressed his rage through violence, shouting or cruelty. It was true he'd never raise a hand to his kids, true he'd never really shouted at them, and true he wasn't going to start now . . . but if he was going to be completely honest it was just because he was just too damned tired to.

He was lazy at the best of times, sleeping in late and often making people do his work for him, and with Renji – especially after last night – he'd been pushed to his brink and wanted nothing more than to fall sleep in a nice, comfy bed. If he had the energy or the effort he might have shouted, might have screamed, might have even socked the brat one . . . but he just couldn't be bothered. It was easier to be more creative in his punishments, easier to talk than to shout, easier to ground than to punch, and besides he didn't want to think what Yoruichi or Tessai would ever say if he ever did step out of line. It was kind of scary in a way to think that the only thing that held him in check, the only thing that made him a good father, was his sheer idleness and apathy to life. If his friends ever discovered out that little fact about him they'd probably see him in a whole new light, well that was assuming they'd be shocked at all by it, which they probably wouldn't be . . . Still, he had to be doing something right because kids seemed to love him: Ichigo, Uryu, Orihime, Chad, Rukia . . . they all stopped by even when Renji wasn't in, sometimes just to catch up, so he had to be a cool person, right? If that was the case then why was it that whatever he did it never seemed to make a difference to Renji? Why was it that no matter how hard he punished, lectured, begged, asked that the redhead always got into these messes? Maybe he wasn't cut out to be a dad, maybe he was just cut out to be the 'cool uncle' kind of guy, but all he knew was that right then – at that very moment – he was on the brink of cracking, and any moment he'd explode. Granted it might not be the classical 'explosion', but he'd learnt over time that the kind of explosion 'Kisuke-Otousan' made was perhaps more deadly than the average person, more like a radioactive bomb compared to a small pipe bomb. Any second now he'd snap, and frankly he wasn't too sure that he cared.

It'd been such a stressful morning that he wasn't even sure how he'd managed to get this far without committing homicide. Last night he'd been sleeping after some wonderful activities with Tessai only to get a text from Gin, that had meant of course that they'd had to find a last minute babysitter in the form of Soi Fon and Yoruichi to watch Jinta and Ururu, which then meant that they'd had to go and stalk down the brat named Renji at close to midnight. If that hadn't been bad enough Tessai had been forced to call parents and drive a load of the kids home, whilst he and Isshin cleaned the house. Oh, that wasn't bad enough either, at least not when Renji was involved, because with Renji involved there was always room for things to get a lot worse . . .

Things happened quickly after that. There'd been Renji vomiting on his feet, followed by an emergency phone call to Isshin saying that Grimmjow had broken his arm and needed treating, that meant Isshin and Ichigo had to drive home, treat Grimmjow where his friend came straight back. Kisuke had a feeling that leaving one very inebriated teenager with his older boyfriend, doped on painkillers, in a house free of any adult presence was not a good move. Of course Shinji was now over at Aizen's trying to 'fix' the 'Hiyori vs. Grimmjow' mess, which in no way could end well, and then to top it all off Renji had thought it a great idea to sleep with Uryu, his best friend's son! No – no, things still had room to get worse . . .

That morning – somewhere between 'oh my God, Karin just told me she heard strange noises in Ichigo's room!' and 'Uryu, I did not raise you to be such a promiscuous whore!' – he'd received a phone call or two from Ukitake-san and Mayuri-san. It seemed that Mayuri hadn't been satisfied with his cut of the profit they'd be making from the vaccine, he'd gone to Aizen and was trying to extort more money from Ishida-san, which was fine because Mayuri – whose role model seemed to be Kisuke himself – had promised to split all profits with him, fifty-fifty. The downside was that, whilst Mayuri and Ishida battled it out in courts over what percentage of profits Mayuri would receive, the vaccine couldn't be used or tested. It would mean that Ukitake would have to make a tough decision about whether he wanted to illegally try out an experimental drug, administered by Kisuke, or wait for the court battles to finish at which point it may be too late to try anything. It had surprised him but it seemed his friend hadn't wasted a second on thought, instantly opting to illegally be treated by Kisuke and hope for the best . . . He couldn't blame his friend, but it was a lot of pressure on Kisuke, and if things didn't turn out well then it could be bad all around for all of them.

It was safe to say that at ten o'clock on a Thursday morning, after the night he had, he truly wished he could be anywhere else except sitting around a breakfast table with his husband to his left and his son to his right . . .

Tessai was currently nursing a hot cup of green tea, staring intently across the table at their son who seemed to be wilting under the brutal gaze of his father. In fact Renji seemed to be looking pretty damned miserable on the whole; his hair and skin were slightly greasy and his eyes had large bags under them, his face was kind of puffy with vomiting and he looked ready to pass out any second now. It wasn't just physically he looked bad, his eyes were wide with fear and he seemed to have developed a slight nervous twitch (although that may have been from pain, Kisuke was surprised he could still walk). The poor kid looked truly terrified. It was like the calm before a storm, each one of them waiting for something – just one thing – to set it all off into play, causing an explosion none of them would forget.

He took a quick sip of his own tea and tried to hold back a smile as he spoke over in the direction of the door. He didn't even need to turn his head to know that his two youngest children would be eavesdropping around the corner, desperate to hear and see just what would happen to their big brother, but he also knew they wouldn't be able to have a real conversation with two children in the room, even if it would add to his son's humiliation.

"Jinta, Ururu," Kisuke said in his usual cheerful tone, "if you're both that bored you have nothing better to do than to listen in then I'm sure I can find some work for you both to do. Renji is going to be here a while after all, maybe you guys wouldn't mind doing his chores?"

"W-What! Aw, come on, Boss – we'll be good, just don't give us that idiot's work to do! Let him do it, he's the one in trouble after all!"

"Hmm . . . Good point." He replied, as if the thought had only just occurred to him. "Well, okay son, let's give you something else to do instead! Do you and Ururu know where I stashed that huge bag of alcohol?" He heard them each give a sound of affirmation and continued, "Well it seems that Renji's favourite clothes, posters and video games are all out on the garbage pile out back, so why don't you and Ururu go and get things ready by pouring all the booze over everything, get it nice and ready for the bonfire tonight! Oh, and if you want to borrow any of his books Ururu, you're welcome, and Jinta is welcome to search his room in case he has anything he shouldn't, but come straight to me with it if you find anything good!"

Truthfully the items mentioned on the soon-to-be bonfire were actually old hand-me-down items intended for Jinta, but stuff so bad that even the little redhead rejected them saying they were too 'uncool'. Of course Jinta and Renji didn't need to know that what was being burnt was actually just garbage, it was better to let them think it was Renji's things – or at least until the fire had burnt out and Kisuke could hand him the box of his cherished items back – because it just wasn't a real punishment until someone was really sorry after all. He continued to sip his tea, hiding his smile behind his cup as his eldest son's face fell through the floor and became pale enough that even the porcelain couldn't compete.

"Y-You're not really going to burn my stuff, are you?"

"Well," Kisuke began, "thanks to your little party half your school year is hung-over or exhausted, so thanks to you the school did have to cancel a day of learning. Although I'm sure Ichimaru-san and Kyoraku-san will be pleased."

"You can't blame that on me! The party was Uryu's!"

"I see. So the fact that we caught you in the bathroom with Uryu-kun, half-naked and moaning obscenities, that wasn't your fault either?"

"I told you! That jerk is still a virgin! I didn't even touch him, he was just making it look like we were up to no good so he could humiliate his father and ruin his reputation! You know four-eyed freaks aren't my type!"

Kisuke was willing to let that one slide. His main reason being that it was just too funny for him to see Renji in a neck-lock, yelling out how sorry he was whilst Tessai looked furious enough to make even Aizen-san cry out in fear. The kid wasn't actually being hurt, or at least not in a way that could be considering unethical, but the little attack would certainly knock enough sense into him to be more careful in future with what he said. He also knew that his husband wouldn't forget the insult in a hurry, which would mean no seconds at dinner, gross leftovers for school lunch, and probably a lot of vacuum cleaning during the hours Renji would be trying to sleep. Eventually Tessai seemed to let go and return back to his usual poised and gracefully sitting, looking regal and calm as ever.

"Then there's the fact that you threw up on my shoes too."

"Those shoes looked like crap before I threw up on them," Renji mumbled quietly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Err, nothing . . ."

"I thought that's what you said. Oh, let's not forget that thanks to you Grimmjow ended up in a fight that broke his arm, Ichigo ended up drunk as a skunk, and according to Isshin both of them were caught having 'done the dirty' this morning. I don't think Isshin is too distraught, but poor Jeagerjaques-san was most likely terrified, after all one doesn't like to be treated by a doctor with a needle at the best of times, especially not when having been caught naked in bed with said doctor's son."

He glanced over to Renji to see the redhead sniggering behind his hand, apparently sober enough to find the embarrassment of his friend a source of entertainment, but quick glare however seemed enough to shut him up. If Kisuke were to be honest he probably would have found that funny were he Renji's age too, and – were he awake enough – he probably would have found it funny at the age he was now. There was just something about picturing the prudish, cocky Ichigo getting caught in bed with an older man that just made one want to instinctively laugh, but there was always a time and a place for everything. If Renji thought it was funny then he should have laughed it off with Rukia later, not made a deal about it when he was getting disciplined by his parents, after all it didn't exactly endear them into taking pity on him, instead it just irked Kisuke further and made him want to be extra hard on the troublesome brat.

He'd already made Renji clean the entire Ishida residence, but now he was sorely tempted into maybe selling him to Yoruichi for the week as a personal maid or maybe getting him a gig emptying bedpans at Ishida-san's hospital – huh, that was a thought, it'd definitely be a lesson Renji wouldn't forget in a hurry too, he'd have to ring his friend later to arrange the times. He could always let Renji drink some of Tessai's 'sure to work' hangover medicine too, that would always knock sense into Renji, hmm, maybe Tessai could be convinced to take part in that form of discipline, it was worth a shot.

He just wasn't sure what he was going to do with Renji at this point. If cleaning the entire Ishida house, the threat of having his things burnt, being lectured by Tessai, cleaning Yoruichi's house and emptying bedpans for Ishida-san didn't work, then what was left? They could always ship him off to Zaraki-Sensei's school for a few terms, after all Zaraki-san was renowned for turning delinquents into responsible members of society, but he liked to think that was a last resort, because if Kisuke couldn't beat sense into his own son then he had no right to call himself a father, much less ship him off onto someone else. Well, if all else failed he could always ask Matsumoto-san to get the photos she'd taken enlarged and sent to the shop for him to frame . . . It was a mildly terrifying thought but the busty woman had – according to rumour – already made a 'wall of shame' in her bar, which credit where it was due she certainly worked quickly. According to Kyoraku-Sensei there were pictures of Renji bathed in vomit, Luppi-san trying to make out with anything that moved, and a blond boy quite undressed that Gin actually requested copies of. If the shame the teenagers felt wasn't bad enough then seeing the wall would definitely knock sense into them, especially for Zaraki-san's students when he saw them! Poor guys.

"Well, lucky for you, Renji-kun, your father and I have decided on your punishment! You'll be spending this wondrous week -!"

"Hey! I just remembered!"

Kisuke sighed and bowed his head slightly. He'd just gotten so excited too, after all punishing Renji was the highlight of his day, and he always loved to see the kid whine, cry and beg for mercy each time he was punished! It was always so amusing to see . . .

Still, Renji never had the longest attention span and he was a lot like his brother in personality, never really thinking or caring about the consequences of things until they actually came. It seemed like the only one of the children who wasn't ditzy, easily distracted or below average intelligence was Ururu, but unfortunately her calm demeanour and smarts never rubbed off onto her brothers. He wasn't too sure he wanted to know what it was Renji had remembered, it couldn't be good, but regardless if the little brat wanted to delay his inevitable punishment then that was fine by Kisuke. He was willing to hear him out. It was almost cute though how his eyes seemed to look up to the sky in thought, and how his little face seemed to light up as if in humour, it always made him wonder how Renji could be so childlike and yet get into such adult complications, like with drinking, fighting and relationships. The poor guy just seemed to want to grow up far too quickly.

"Oh? What did you remember, Renji-kun?"

"Something that Shinji bloke said," Renji said offhandedly, "I was too drunk to recognise him at the time, but he's one of your friends right, Dad? I swear I've seen him a couple of times growing up"

Kisuke smiled as he flipped open his fan, previously hidden in his sleeve, and began to lightly fan his face in mock nonchalance. He knew that the blond was a very good friend of Ichigo's and so it made sense he'd be invited, but somehow it didn't seem fair that the Vizard would get an invite and not Kisuke! Granted not many people would want to invite their dad or their dad's friend, but it would have been nice of them, and plus with an adult or two there the kids wouldn't have got nearly as drunk and no one would have been in trouble. Kisuke would have gladly chaperoned if they'd -. Oh God, it seemed he'd not only gotten old but he'd become one of those uncool parents that had forgotten what it was like to be young, after all what teenage boy wants to be chaperoned, least of all by a parent? That was it, if one day he began telling Jinta to 'wrap up warm' before leaving the house or Ururu to 'put on more clothes' then he was going to get Tessai to beat him until he became cool again. No way did he want to be like the other parents he knew . . . even if that was limited to Kurosaki, Ishida and technically Kuchiki.

"Hirako Shinji?" Kisuke asked casually, "Of course I know him, Renji-kun. He's been one of my closest friends since med school, I was with him when that trouble with Aizen-san started and I even took the fall with him. He's always at Yoruichi's parties, remember last year's when you tried some sake for the first time and spat it out all over the blond guy? That was him."

Renji seemed to flush red for a minute in memory and then shrugged. "Oh well, I figured he had to know you. He knew you were my pops and all, but when I asked him if he knew you it was weird . . ."

"Really?"

"Yeah . . . I didn't think much of it at the time, but it was kind of like he was implying you were more than friends. I must have been mistaken, like you would have ever dated a guy like that, I mean he's cool and all but he's kind of creepy. He doesn't seem at all like Tessai-Otousan. I have no idea what anyone would see in a guy like him, you know?"

"Oh, he isn't that bad. He's got his talents after all . . . It's just a shame I discovered them before the tongue piercing," Kisuke lamented. "Still, trust me, if you got to know him you'd probably be over Yumichika in seconds, Shinji can make you forget any guy in an instant, he's just got that way about him."

A gruff cough came from across the table where Tessai sat, making Kisuke literally jump in his seat and stiffen his entire body. When he looked to his left his husband seemed to be exuding an aura of menace and irritation, kind of like he was mentally counting how many ways he could kill his lover and hide the body. His eyes had darkened behind his glasses, his moustache twitching as he grunted again, and his entire muscular frame seemed to tense as he turned ever so slightly to face Urahara with full force.

It wasn't that surprising his lover was pissed if he was going to be honest, after all whilst he'd been honest about all his past relationships and lovers he may have glossed over and neglected to mention Shinji . . . It wasn't that he'd assumed Tessai would be insanely jealous or anything, but his other relationships weren't at all like they'd been with Shinji. After all Yoruichi was in his teenage experimental years, he'd soon discovered himself to prefer the company of men and Yoruichi found herself with a crush on Soi Fon, and that had ended their relationship, years later they'd both been in relationships and both were far too loyal and monogamous to cheat. He'd fooled around with a couple of guys in med school, the two being friends of his, but they'd never fully slept together and so they weren't really a threat as such, and besides that both of them had gone on to get married, have children, and identify as being straight. Shinji - . . . Shinji was different, it was different because it wasn't innocent experimentation as a teenager, it was different as they actually had sex and not just fooled around, and – most of all – it was different because they were not only still friends, but Shinji was single too. Tessai loved Kisuke more than anything in the world, and Kisuke loved him just as much, they trusted each other a hundred percent and neither were remotely jealous, but . . . what person wouldn't worry when their husband spent time alone with a handsome blond whom he'd long ago slept with, a blonde that was not only single but a complete flirt? It wasn't that he kept it secret because he didn't trust Tessai, but more that he didn't want to worry him. He hadn't done anything too bad, right?

Still, he had a feeling he was going to be paying for this later. He'd been with Tessai since he turned twenty-six, the two of them opening the shop together and living together, it was three years after that they'd adopted the then nine-year-old Renji. Their relationship was solid, long lasting and one of complete love, adoration and trust, not something to be thrown away over an incident that had happened at least five years before they began dating. Regardless he'd been lying all this time, pretending that Shinji had never been more than just a friend, and so it was obvious that Tessai would be at least a little bit pissed, because he'd betrayed his lover's trust and kept a rather large secret about his past. Sure he'd be forgiven, sure they'd move on, but before then they'd need to be serious talks, reprimands and a decision on how to fix things . . . even if that did turn out to be 'no being left alone with that man', which was probably an acceptable demand considering how Kisuke had gone about things. He'd have probably had similar demands if he'd been in Tessai's shoes, most people would probably make those same demands too, and of course he knew it was all his fault, because if he'd been honest from the start then his lover probably wouldn't feel threatened or betrayed in the way he likely did at that moment. It was going to take a lot of long nights, expensive gifts and self-sacrifice to make this one up to Tessai . . .

"Shinji can 'make you forget any guy in an instant', can he?" Tessai said gruffly, his eyes turning to Kisuke with a rather noticeable gleam, "So what man did he make you forget, Kisuke?"

"Aha! It's not like that, honey! This was back when I was in med school, I couldn't have been older than twenty-one, it was years before we began to date! Besides, it was just a one-night stand, you know? It didn't mean anything, the rest of the time it was just fooling around." Kisuke began wafting his fan vehemently in front of his face, desperate to cool down the flush to his embarrassed cheeks and hide his pained expression. "He wasn't that good anyway. He was all speed but with no technique!"

"Oh? So he wasn't as 'talented' as you just described him?"

"Well, he was . . . but he really doesn't compete with you at all!" Kisuke stammered, desperate to try and back-pedal his way out of dangerous ground, "I mean he just didn't have the power that you do, or the rhythm, and frankly his technique leaves a lot to be desired. He kind of left me hanging . . . I don't think you or Yoruichi ever did that. Frankly he wasn't that bad, like I said, but he could never compete with you, Tessai! Especially not when you -!"

"Hello! I'm still here!" Renji shouted a little too loudly.

Kisuke turned to his right to see his son sitting with the most pained and humiliated expression on his face ever conceived. He'd somehow turned a shade of red as deep as his hair, and his lips were quivering as if debating whether to start screaming or keep quiet, and his eyes were cast down at the floor as he desperately tried not to look anyone in the eyes. The poor guy had his hands braced on his legs, but was clenching so tightly that he'd probably left bruises through his hipster jeans, and come to think of it Kisuke really didn't want his son to be hearing these things either . . . Sure it helped add to his punishment, it'd certainly embarrass him enough to think twice before acting an idiot again, because they'd be no way in hell he'd want to relive this moment, but when all was said and done Kisuke found himself as equally as traumatised as Renji. It wasn't that he had anything to be ashamed about, but this moment just reminded him of the time he'd walked past Renji's room whilst he was dating Yumichika, and been deeply traumatised by hearing the noises from the room. Whilst this was kind of like payback on Renji he felt kind of guilty about making his own son feel that uncomfortable, and surely it'd take a long time for the two of them to not be awkward around each other, until then it'd be hell for them both.

He lifted his fan to cover his lower face whilst subtly using the tip of it to lower his hat, covering his eyes in darkness so that he didn't have to look at anyone else around the breakfast table. He could already see Tessai – despite his otherwise perfectly calm demeanour – flushing pink with eyes fluttering in nervousness, and Renji looked ready for the earth to open and swallow him whole. It was better overall if Kisuke just tried to make himself as small as possible, hopefully that way they'd all forget this horrible conversation happened and move on swiftly, back into the realms of normality. He doubted anyone alive would ever want to remember a conversation like this, and he certainly doubted he'd even be able to speak to Shinji again any time soon, at least not without feeling incredibly guilty, awkward and embarrassed. Who knew a clumsy one-night stand with a guy that couldn't tell a prostate from a freckle would come back to bite him in the ass this way? Life just wasn't fair.

"Anyway," Renji said, coughing into his hand casually, as if none of the previous conversation had even happened, "it wasn't just Shinji? Yoruichi too? My God, you're just like freaking Yumichika! He slept around the whole group too! First it was Shuhei, then me and then Ikkaku -! Oh gross, I dated someone just like my own dad; I'm going to need therapy for life!"

Kisuke wasn't sure whether to feel a smug sense of satisfaction at annoying his son so well, or whether he should be pissed off as hell at being compared to a narcissistic, arrogant, air-headed boy. It wasn't as if he could be really compared to Yumi, was it? After all most single friends tended to fool around together at some point, and it wasn't as if any of their relationships had been all that serious or even serious at all, just harmless fun until he'd found the guy of his dreams and settled down. Then again, it wasn't as if he had anything to justify to Renji. He was the adult after all! He shouldn't have to be accountable for his past, he was the one setting the rules, it shouldn't matter what his eldest son thought!

"I'd rather you didn't imply I was some sort of slut, Renji-kun," Kisuke muttered dangerously, "I've only ever been with five people including your father, and it's not as though Kurosaki-san or Ishida-san count as such either, we only fooled around after all, never actually slept together as such."

"Oh bloody hell! Is there any one of my friends' dads you didn't sleep with?"

This conversation really wasn't going as well as he planned at all . . . With a sigh he snapped his fan shut and gently rested his arms on his folded legs, looking up at the ceiling with a troubled expression. On the one side he had his husband, angry with him for keeping secret a past lover, and on the side he had his son who had just been dealt the revelation that parents could be sexual creatures too, where at once the truly disturbing thought had manifested itself as 'any parent who has sex must be a slut, because no parent should ever have sex!' It was quite immature of Renji but he couldn't really blame the guy, it wasn't as if the conversation was at all pleasant for either of them. Frankly though Kisuke didn't think five people in his thirty-six years of life was that bad, in fact he was probably below average as far as the average horny guy went.

Still, at this point his options were a conversation with Renji or a conversation with Tessai, and either way they couldn't go well. If it were up to him he'd just close shop for the afternoon and head to sleep, pretending like this whole lousy morning had never happened . . . but judging from Renji's 'oh my god, I want to die' look, and Tessai's 'oh my god, you're so going to die' expression, sleeping wouldn't be a possibility any time soon. So -! If he had to face the music either way then which one was it going to be? Hmm . . . Might as well hash it out with Tessai, at least that way there was a possibility of make-up sex, and besides Renji would only flip out when told he'd be working at the hospital for the next week to make up for his behaviour. Yeah, it was much better to deal with Tessai.

"Well Renji, it looks like you're off the hook for a while," Kisuke said sweetly, "I'll be sure to let you know the full details of your punishments later on, but so far I'm going with mornings cleaning Yoruichi's bathrooms and afternoons emptying bedpans at Ishida-san's hospital. You're welcome to stay and argue, especially seeing as your stuff's still on the fire and you're grounded for a month, but considering Tessai and I are about to have 'grown-up talk' about my past liaisons, you might want to get out before the mental images scar you." He made sure to smile brightly as he nodded to the door in a false nonchalant way, silently saying 'leave now before I find a way to make it worse', "Bye now, Renji-kun!"

It wasn't a surprise when his son growled loudly, stood up whilst stomping his feet and stormed out the room, making sure to slam the paper door as loudly as he possibly could whilst wandering out to the shop front. No matter how mature Renji pretended to be he was still just a fifteen-year-old boy, one that had the same hormones and attitude problems as any other. So Kisuke chose not to take what came next personally:

"I hate you!"

"Aw! That's nice! I love you too, son!"

It was hard not to laugh when the sound of doors slamming continued to echo the building. Poor kid, he was just too easy to wind up! One of these days he'd give himself a stress-induced heart-attack, because in Kisuke's household the one thing needed was a sense of humour, that was of course if one didn't want to be driven to the brink of insanity . . . Still, he had to laugh.

* * *

It hadn't really gone at all how Shinji had expected, but – then again – if he were to tell the truth these little meetings with Aizen never went as he expected . . .

He didn't trust the guy, he never had done. Aizen was a sneak, a sadist, a liar, he was a condescending, two-faced, arrogant little shit who'd break his own grandma's neck if it meant he'd get a dollar or two from it. Aizen was the epitome of duplicity, to those who didn't know him well he'd put on a little nerdy expression, talk real slow and wear thick-rimmed glasses, acting like a kind of academic who'd spent so long in a stuffy little lecture hall he'd forgotten what it meant to be human. It was an act the bookworm seemed to like, and why wouldn't he? By acting like the fatherly figure he won everyone's trust, got them all on his side, got inside their heads and made them trust him, not once ever indicating to them he was really a slimy bastard who'd screw them over. You'd think though that if he put on an act for the idiots who didn't know him, or didn't want to know him, he'd at least be honest to the ones that did, but if that was what you thought then you'd be wrong. To the people he was closest too he'd put on a Gin-like smile, always smirking in a kind of scheming way as if he were working out the cost of taking you to court versus the profit he'd make from it, a kind of calculating look that'd give you shivers, as if Death were standing next to you doing out loud math sums as he stared at you. You either had 'honest, smiling Aizen' or 'scheming, smirking Aizen' but you never got just Aizen Sosuke, the man behind the mask. In fact Shinji wasn't even saw if Aizen knew who he was anymore, if he even recognised his face in a mirror, because everything about the man was nothing but an act, a mask, a lie. No, he'd never trust the man, and he felt sorry for anyone that could.

There'd been a time when Shinji had foolishly thought that simply distrusting Aizen was enough, that if he kept the man at arm's length there'd be no way for the brunet to get to him, to hurt him. He'd been an idiot thinking that. Aizen was kind of like a scorpion, just because you pinned the head didn't mean that the tail lacked a bite of its own, and that's exactly what happened to Shinji: he'd held the man back but not seen the real attack coming. In fact it was probably by keeping the man at arm's length that had enabled him to real get Shinji, to attack him where it hurt and milk him for all he was worth, because – let's face it – if Shinji had ever bothered to look behind that mask, see the guy for who he really was rather than shunning him, then he would have known what to expect. He couldn't blame Aizen for doing what he did, after all you can't stop a hound from chasing a rabbit, and you can't stop a man like Aizen from wanting blood from those around him. If anything it was Shinji's fault, he should have seen it coming.

That was the thing though, it didn't matter how much Shinji truly got to know Aizen, how long he'd spend in his company, how much he read up on the guy . . . he never honestly knew what to expect. The guy just seemed to wrap his lies up so well that each time you thought you'd gotten to the bottom of the mystery there was another one waiting, and more importantly Shinji never knew how to react to that. It was like each time he found out something new he'd react accordingly, but that conniving little shit always planned that one step ahead and outsmarted Shinji at the last minute, no matter how well Shinji planned things or thought he perceived them. He wished he could be like some of the others, like some of the men who worked with Aizen or like some of their friends, the sort of person who could just go with the flow and shrug it all off, never really reacting because they knew that there was no point in reacting, that whatever happened they'd always be something else around the corner to deal with. One of these days he'd find a way to beat him, one of these days he'd finally understand him, and when he did he'd crush the man into dust and make him pay – he'd make him pay for everything.

He'd had a feeling when he came crawling to Aizen's house of what to expect. They'd be a huge settlement fee to pay of course, a 'heartfelt' apology and of course a little game of 'do whatever the nerd wanted' to sweeten the deal and tempt Aizen into going along with things. If there's one thing that freak liked it was getting one over on people, manipulating them and humiliating them, and so he'd offered himself up as a willing slave for the night, willing to completely debase himself for Aizen's pleasure in order to save his ass. He couldn't care less what Aizen made him do really, because the guy was a worm and his opinion meant squat to Shinji, and ultimately it'd mean he got the one-up because he'd get off the hook whilst all Aizen got was a one-night gig of feeling superior to his ex-lover. Admittedly he'd just expected a quick lay and to be gone in an hour, but Aizen had decided upon complete humiliation and instead gave him degrading tasks like barking like a dog, licking his shoes or begging for forgiveness. There'd been a couple of times where Shinji had nearly punched him in the jaw, but he didn't, he was aware that this was the only way of sparing Hiyori and the company and he'd played along. What did it matter in the long run? If Aizen wanted to play games then let him, it wasn't as if Shinji cared less, in fact it just proved the lawyer to be a sad, pathetic man who needed to put people down to feel better about himself. In fact, that should have been the end of it, but it seemed Aizen had one last request . . .

It seemed he'd wanted a quick lay, a lot like Shinji had expected, and sure he'd given him one because – quite frankly – Aizen was a damned good lay. What he hadn't expected was for one lay to become three, and for three to last the entire remainder of the night. What was worse was how Shinji had enjoyed every second of it, even begged for it, and what's more was actually considering coming back for more in the future, which was frankly asking for trouble.

Okay, so it was likely to end in insane accusations, court cases, lawsuits, tabloid gossip or even heartbreak, but so what? It was some of the best sex he'd had in a long while, maybe even in his whole life, because he wasn't going to lie: Aizen was one of the best he'd ever had. This night alone had reminded him of everything they'd used to have, all the fun times and all the sleepless nights that were just too perfect to regret, every second they'd spent screwing each other's brains out and the moments that ended with Shinji screaming Aizen's name. The first time that evening saw the brunet on all fours as Shinji nearly passed out from pleasure coming inside his lover, the second time came a while later as they moved into the bedroom with Aizen tied to his bed and Shinji riding him from above, and the third time . . .

After the second time they'd slept for a couple of hours, and at some point Shinji had awoken around six a.m. to his new lover nibbling his ear and stroking his newly forming erection to full mast. He'd forgotten how good it was to be woken up that way, and he didn't give a flying fuck that he was due in for work in an hour's time, this was all for Hiyori's benefit after all, it wasn't like she could complain or anything, because he was doing this for her, not as though he could walk away from it all now. Then again he couldn't walk away from it even if he wanted too, it was just too damned good!

He continued to fake sleep for a few more minutes, simply relishing in the sensations that surrounded him. The black, satin bed-sheets under him felt cool against his warm skin, providing him with a sense of relief, and the way they twisted and wrapped around his legs made him feel both vulnerable and secure. At some point during their second bout of sex Shinji must have tangled his legs in the sheets before passing out next to Aizen, and he kind of enjoyed the feeling. It was like being encased in a warm cocoon, but it also left him defenceless to whatever Aizen had planned, sending chills down his spine, making him want to throw up his arms and surrender to whatever his lover had planned. He almost moaned as he caught a scent in the air, one that he'd almost forgotten and one that he always enjoyed, it was the heady and weighted scent of sex and sweat, and of course with traces of Aizen's subtle cologne drifting through. He'd have to shower before he left of course, because if Hiyori or Kisuke caught the scent they'd know at once what he'd been up to, and that'd be completely awkward, perhaps even more awkward than having to sneak out from the party so Kisuke didn't catch him. Still, he was an adult, right? Surely his friends couldn't fault him for wanting to save Hiyori's neck the best way he knew how, and surely they wouldn't argue that a night of pleasure was the best way to spend a night? It wasn't as if they hadn't ever had questionable bed partners or done unethical things themselves, they were bound to understand . . . Shinji was only human after all.

It was then that Aizen began to trail kisses along his neck, hard and passionate kisses that had him arching his neck and back in instinct, baring more of the long column of skin to his lover to get more. He loved how soft Aizen's lips felt, how he still memorised the right pressure points and nerves on Shinji's body that would send him into a moaning mess, how occasionally he'd bite gently down onto his skin with such increasing pressure he'd worry that the skin would break, before nursing it with forcefully sucking and lathing the area with his tongue. Before Shinji could stop himself he was already loudly moaning, his throat letting out keening noises of pleasure and arousal, his right hand snaking its way up and behind to reach for Aizen's brown locks, gripping his hair with a passion he'd nearly forgotten, pulling his head down for more contact, more kisses, more bites.

He could feel his lover behind him, his chest pressed against Shinji's back, their bodies aligned with one another almost perfectly, almost – if it wasn't for their hatred or loathing – romantically. It was as if their bodies were made for one another, both pressed so tightly against each other that it seemed they'd become one, and Aizen's legs bending with Shinji's own tied up pair as if he knew exactly how he lover would move, how he'd need to move in response to keep parallel to him. The feeling of Aizen's right hand stroking his growing erection was enough to distract him from his sleepy meanderings. His hand seemed to fit perfectly over Shinji's arousal, encircling it with such familiarity that it made the blonde wonder if his lover had actually been with anyone else in his absence, as if through all this time Aizen had simply been waiting for Shinji, unwilling to take any other partner, unwilling to forget, merely existing to wait until this moment. His grip was loose, not tight enough to cause any real pleasure but just firm enough to tease, to coax, to hint at pleasures to come, moving slowly and methodically in a steady rhythm.

Yet it wasn't anything that Aizen was consciously doing that got Shinji hot and needy, it was how he could feel Aizen's erection pressing firmly along the crease of his buttocks, how he could feel the man's hot breath on his skin, and how Aizen wanted, needed Shinji. He wanted him so badly that he'd bottomed the first time, was willing to go again a second time, and now was willing to actually play with Shinji to wake him up to go for a third time. It made the Vizard feel needed, like someone actually needed him and wanted him, like he was actually superior in a way to Aizen! After all he had been the one sleeping and he wasn't the one raring to go again, so surely that meant he had the control, that he was the one tempting Aizen and making him do as he wanted, making the Arrancar lawyer give into his needs and demands? Sure it might make him as pathetic as his lover, just being happy to get the one-up on someone so despised, but he couldn't help it, this was Aizen, the man he loathed, hated and detested, the man who'd wrecked his career and made his life hell . . . if he could get just one moment of control, just one moment of having his lover under his grasp, then he wasn't just happy, he was fucking ecstatic! He'd definitely be throwing this moment back in Aizen's face later that was for sure.

Truthfully he loved sex with Aizen, it was never dull and never bad, but with the party ending at around eleven and not getting into Aizen's place until around two-thirty, followed by two rounds of sex, he was completely exhausted and drained. Besides that his legs were completely trapped by the stupid sheets, and with Aizen lying behind him, refusing to move, it made reciprocating pretty damned hard. Ah, whatever, if Aizen wanted it then he could work for it, Shinji had kept his end of the deal already, the way he saw it if Aizen wanted extra then it wasn't up to him to provide it. In fact it was better not to provide it, that way he could mock the idiot lawyer when it was all done for not having any self-control, for wanting Shinji to the point he was willing to give up control! Besides, the kisses felt good and at least if he got to walk with a limp the next day he could throw it in Hiyori's face, he doubted that girl had ever gotten laid in a life . . . come to think of it, it would explain her attitude problem.

He gave a deep sigh as Aizen slid his hand away from his erection and down to his buttocks, massaging them expertly as he began to give slow, shallow thrusts in the groove between each cheek. His left hand had at some point sneaked its way under Shinji's side and came around him, pulling him tight against Aizen's body, as those long fingers began to play with his hardening nipple, sending shivers down his spine. The distraction was enough to relax Shinji, to cause his body to loosen as he let out a strangled sound of lust, before feeling Aizen slide in two fingers into his behind. They didn't need to waste time with preparation, only two hours ago Shinji had been riding Aizen, and he was still plenty loose and lubricated enough for them to forgo too much foreplay. Instead he allowed his body to relish in the feeling, to enjoy how full he felt and how stretched as two fingers became three, and how Aizen knew almost immediately where his pleasure spot would be, working it as it were the most natural thing in the world. The very touch had Shinji arching back, beginning to writhe against his partner's hand . . .

God, he wasn't supposed to be enjoying it this much! He was supposed to be having the upper hand here! Still, it wasn't as if he instigated this at all, and it was all for Hiyori too because if he didn't do this they'd be a huge court case, so it wasn't as if he couldn't allow himself a moment of pleasure, right? After all he was settling this out of court, getting a good screw and ultimately getting one over on Aizen, so there wasn't really much harm in enjoying things, it wasn't as if it'd take away his edge at all. In fact it was better that he enjoyed this! If he enjoyed it then he was getting more out of it, one more thing to throw in Aizen's geeky, little face! In fact he owed it to himself to enjoy it, right?

Shinji held back a groan of loss as the fingers were removed, but instead let out a loud gasp of surprise as he felt Aizen's long length sliding inside of him. His lover's hand wrapping deftly around his own arousal, this time with a firm grip and a steady rhythm that spoke clearly that he sought for Shinji's release. It really did feel almost too good! He'd given in pretty easily when Aizen had asked for sex because he knew how good it would feel, but now that he had he was scared he'd return to the addiction he once had when they were first together, where he'd crave for Aizen and force him into sex in the most mind-blowing of places and positions. They couldn't go back to the way things were, they just couldn't! Yet, this felt so good, so damned good, would it hurt it they carried on sleeping together, even if they hated one another? Maybe it was the hatred that made it the sweeter; maybe they needed to do this . . .

It was different to usual. Last night they'd been so fast and forceful, it'd been almost brutal and rough, but Aizen was now moving so slowly, so gently, his kisses almost soft as butterflies on his neck, and his hand almost like a real lover's on his member. It was good, great in fact, kind of passionate yet satisfying, but he couldn't help but wonder about the change. Maybe Aizen was just tired, maybe he just felt like a quick and soft screw to take off the edge before work, or maybe he just wanted one last go before Shinji left but simply didn't have the energy . . . or maybe this was another game, maybe he was being played, manipulated?

Still, damn it, it felt so perfect! With each rolling thrust Aizen seemed to hit his spot just right, each move stroking and rubbing against the place that had Shinji seeing stars, and the way he pumped Shinji's member had him groaning out despite his hatred of Aizen, bucking his hips and moving in time, desperate for more of that pleasure. He could hear Aizen's soft panting beside his ear, feel his hot breath stroking and moistening his skin, and most of all he could smell the scent of sweat beginning to permeate further into the air around them. The pleasure was too intense, his every nerve felt alight, his muscles twitching and flexing of their own accord, his inner channel contracting around Aizen with every inward thrust. A layer of sweat covered his body, his vision beginning to blur as he moaned all the louder, drowning out the soft sounds of his lover, and his entire body feeling hot, heavy, electrified. Any second now and he would come, he couldn't control it, it was just too much, too damned much . . .

Shinji arched his back with a scream so loud his throat ached, his eyes closing shut as he felt nothing but a sense of sheer bliss, a feeling of delight so extreme that it threatened to destroy his very being. He could feel his toes curling, his legs aching so hard that they nearly cramped, and most of all he could feel the way Aizen felt inside him as his inner walls gave spasms around him. His member shot what seemed ropes after ropes of come, covering his stomach in an instant, and inside him he could feel an almost full, burning, sticky sensation as his lover came with a harsh bite upon Shinji's neck. Shinji was still shuddering minutes later as his orgasm died away, leaving him with the feeling of a magnificent after-glow, his body panting for breath as his mind reeled elsewhere from such an intense, heavenly feeling. How was it Aizen made him feel this way every time? How was it Aizen had such skills at what he did?

He winced as his lover pulled out, making him feel almost sore inside and certainly empty and felt almost cold as Aizen pulled away, taking his body heat with him. It seemed all the lawyer wanted really was just a quick screw to take the edge of, because right away he was folding Shinji's clothes in a neat pile, throwing his own soiled attire into a nearby basket and fishing out paperwork, probably ready for Shinji to sign the very second he could remember his name. Of course Aizen had made Shinji sign all the papers before they'd had sex, but knowing the lawyer he probably had copies to sign or something. . .

It was just like Aizen, all work and no play . . . Tch, at least Shinji knew how to have a good time, at least he wasn't some stuck-up, workaholic like his ex-lover was, you'd think even a man like Aizen could spend a minute in bed just basking in the glow of sex, but it seemed not. Shinji really shouldn't have expected much from the guy, after all this was how it all turned out as, pathetic really.

"Ya not seriously going to start working at a time like this, are ya?" Shinji sneered. "Ya got far less class than I thought, the very least ya could do is at least say 'thank you' for a hot steamy night. Ya think I put out like that for anyone?"

"Oh? I am sorry, Hirako-san. It is just you slept with me so I would accept your settlement, thus dropping official charges and saving your company, did you not? Such an actions implies that the profit of your company was worth more to you than your dignity and self-respect." Aizen fixed a cufflink to his shirt as he leant against the corner poster of the bed, half-dressed but still managing to look elegant as ever, "I believe there is a word for people who use sex for money, uncaring over what affect it has upon their reputation. In which case allow me to apologise for not thanking you, after all . . . it is not common practise to thank whores, is it not?"

Shinji immediately sat up upon those words.

His perpetual smile had fallen considerably; instead his eyes had narrowed into a dark glower, his cheeks flushed with his ire and his hands nearly tearing holes into Aizen's sheets as he clenched his fists tightly upon them.

That – that bastard! How dare he call Shinji a whore? Damn him! Wasn't Aizen the one who'd originally slept with him in order to lure him into a court battle, stealing all his money? If anyone was a whore it was Aizen! God-freaking-damn it, he was going to kill that money-hungry hound, put him down without a second thought, hang him from the top of the nearest building as a lesson for anyone who dared call Shinji such offensive names ever again! In fact nothing was stopping him from going over to the guy and punching his lights out right now, in fact nothing would make him happier than to see Aizen lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood as he took back those damned words of his! He'd really make the guy pay, he wasn't just about to be used and then insulted like this, oh hell no!

"Oh, and Shinji?" Aizen said smugly, a smile playing across his features as he added the few last finishing touches to his suit and hair, "You're welcome to use my shower and any spare clothes, I shall also have one of my maids bring you up a tray of your favourite breakfast. I should ask you to refrain from violence however. There is a security camera in every room, but I'm afraid the one in my study does not pick up sound, and the one in my bedroom is broken. Should you attack me I would have no choice but to take the video to court, the one of you viciously pounding into me from behind before dragging me away to a place off-camera, and on top of photographs of the bodily harm that you intend to inflict -? This time you may end up with jail time. Of course I have no intent to do such a thing . . . providing you keep your fists to yourself."

Aizen stole a quick glance over to Shinji and smiled brightly as he saw the blond man physically shaking from anger, his entire body quivering like a leaf in the wind as he bit his lip to stop from letting out any damaging retorts. It was always a delightful sight to see his dear old sensei losing control in such a manner, especially seeing as just moments ago he had assumed the control was his.

"You may take your time leaving, I do not intend to be back home until late this evening," and as much as he tried to eradicate the tone of smugness to his voice, it just couldn't be done. "Farewell, Shinji, and thank you for allowing me to have the pleasure of seeing your adorable expression of defeat just one last time. It is one I shall never forget, I assure you."

The lamp that went flying across the room smashed against a now closed door, missing Aizen by about a tenth-of-a-second. It was probably for the best in the long run, but Shinji still regretted not seeing Aizen's blood trickling over the floor.

Bastard.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen  
by Rachael

It was a real change for them to party out; they went to a lot of parties these days, most of them were held in their honour, to celebrate some sort of sponsor of theirs (one being a very strange little party held for the Over 70's Sky Diving Association and another for the Gentlemen's Lingerie Admiration Society) or something for other sophisticated rich grown-ups, admittedly all of those things resulted in a few laughs and good conversation… But it felt like forever since the eight of them had gone to some sort of reckless binging bash at a house party; most of their alcohol heavy nights where set out by Hiyori and Shinji drinking heavy at either apartment, or Kensei hitting the bars hard. There was nothing quite like drunken teenagers; the typical fighting lads outside, the light-weight vomiting in the corner, a broken cupboard doors, girls slapping each other violently and screeching, and the two drunks making out on the sofa.

However, as fun as those sorts of parties were, the next morning was never coming to be cherished and laughed about. It all began from the moment you opened your eyes and travelled unsuspectingly through the senses… Hiyori had woken to daylight through blinds, making an awkward and coincidental flash across her line of vision. She could smell vomit, glancing down at her clothes just to make sure it wasn't on her clothes or in her hair… her mouth didn't taste like vomit, but did taste like stale alcohol, a lack of toothpaste, but not cigarettes… In the background of the room she could hear a low chuntering, a little bit like a coffee machine.

Her place didn't have a coffee machine…

That was what led to the second part upon waking up after a night out… working out where you'd woken up… She sat up, holding her head and feeling a little relieved that her first instinct wasn't to keel over and vomit, she swung her legs onto the floor and after the room stopped spinning round and round, Hiyori began to piece together her surroundings… She'd been sleeping on a leather sofa, black leather; there was jacket over her… some damn dick-head's jacket, because it smelt like cheap Lynx and beer. The floor her sandaled feet were on was wooden and clean… the walls painted black, a sort of stylish metallic black… she was opposite a plasma screen TV with a load of video games and cable systems attached to it.

Okay, just who the hell did she go home with last night?

She reached around for her cell phone… she'd been wearing a jacket last night, so where the hell was it? More importantly, where was Shinji? They always went home together after a night out; it wasn't like he had some nice lawsuit firing egomaniac to go home with… Hiyori chuckled at that, getting up on the sofa on shaky legs, she spotted her jacket hanging off the front door handle, and she cast a gaze over the apartment. There were a few posters of films and expensive looking car photographs in frames… when she looked at the mantel piece, there was a nice big photo of the Vizards stood together in the picture they had taken for a paper in front of their building.

This meant either one of the Vizards, or a sports car liking stalker.

They mostly all met up at the company, or at Shinji's, since they'd gotten richer, they spent more time at the company, off and around the country, and their apartments and houses had changed considerably… But from the décor, she attempted to guess at whose home this was… There wasn't enough lingerie clad super models on the walls for this place to be Lisa's, the colours were too dark to be Hachi's, no flashing lights and pictures of Ultra Man, so it wouldn't be Mashiro… This left either Kensei (who she doubted would take her home considering how crazy he was over that boy), and Rose (who she doubted could handle her while she was plastered). Hiyori walked into the kitchen, it was modern and shiny. On one of the counter-tops there was a black leather wallet, she flicked it open and spotted Shuhei Hisagi's identity card…

Wow, so Kensei bought her home, even with his sexy little Toy-Boy in the house. How very considerate of him.

Speaking of which, said Toy-Boy entered the room, looking rather startled on her state of awake. He'd clearly showered and was wearing what appeared to be Super Man boxer shorts and a very tight black t-shirt; he had a cool tattoo on one muscled upper-arm. He smiled awkwardly and said in a considerately quiet voice, 'Good morning, Hiyori-san.' Good boy, he was risking the chance of her having a hangover.

"Yeah, morning, Toy-Boy-san," she grumbled, climbing up to sit on one of those stupid chairs small people have to climb into, they were meant to look like bar stools… bar stools for Club de la Giants! Smooth, Kensei.

Upon glancing upwards, the young man had an embarrassed flush on his cheeks; surely he must have known that seven of eight people knew him as Toy-Boy-san? Oh well, if he didn't, he did now. Hiyori rubbed her hands threw her hair, her feet dangling from the bar stool; she could faintly hear him moving around the kitchen quietly towards the coffee machine.

"Do you want one?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

"Do you want yours… with sugar?"

People always ask that question, but anyone who worked with the Vizard higher-ups would cringe upon having to get her coffee. If she remembered correctly, which seemed a little tricky considering the way her head hadn't quite made its mind up about being hung-over or not; Toy-Boy-san had first met her in the office, while she was yelling at an assistant for asking her about sugar in her coffee. Normally she wouldn't take offence; it was a pretty common question where coffee was concerned. But what she did take offence too was people assuming she had very sugary coffee because of her youthful appearance. It was like when she was a brat, Kisuke would always get her candy for Christmas and birthdays… in fact at the end of her first week of hard worked labour, the damn dickhead offered her a big bag of candy. Or once Shinji had everyone in the office that 'Hiyori-san likes childish things, like candy and cake and stuffed animals'… Damn dick-head, damn, damn dick-head…

"Err, two sugars, thanks."

Speaking of Shinji, where on earth was he? He was always up before her when they went drinking, and she hadn't even received a mocking text message yet… unless her phone was on silent, then she'd probably have several. They must have been separated at some point; maybe he went home with Lisa or Love? What did they do last night? To find Shinji, even if he was a dick-head, she'd need to retrace her steps through last night… she rubbed her temples a little… There was the house party, she remembered that, she also remembered doing whisky shots with some effeminate guy with a real irritating voice… then she remembered leaving the party real pissed off… And some guy had tried to grab her arm – yeah it was some blue haired guy wearing a t-shirt, he looked like a mid-twenties yob. He'd been trying to say something, but she was so drunk and angry she'd whacked him one… Come to think of it, it probably wasn't once…

Oops.

After that she remembered arguing with Shinji in front of the house the party was at again. Only Kisuke was there with a load of other adults, she recognized Rangiku-san, she was taking photos of Toy-Boy-san and some blond kid who were… naked at the time… what the hell was happening there? She could remember a teenage girl yelling real loud down her phone… something about… bald men. She could also remember a well-dressed frigid looking man walking past the drunken wreckage and muttering 'disgusting' under his breath.

Then she was in a taxi a little while after that. All seven of them were there (Hachi always said he was too old to tag along on their nights out), well eight, including Toy-Boy-san, who was now fully dressed and drunkenly groaning into Kensei's shirt. It was quite a small taxi, because she was sitting on Love's lap, something she only ever did when they were in a tiny space because she was the smallest and he was biggest. Shinji was there, but he didn't seem very drunk, in fact he seemed irritable and on edge, so they'd dropped him off somewhere, all laughing and singing some stupid Pirate song… where on earth had they dropped him?

It couldn't be like the time they'd call Kensei a sour puss and pushed him out of the van in the middle of the French countryside…

They were still singing the Pirate song for another ten minutes, until Rose wanted to know where they were going, then Mashiro started chanting 'Karaoke Bar!' over and over, it became something of a chant, even Hiyori could remember doing it, even though she hated those damn places. Well the driver of the taxi seemed to think, and she could see why, that meant they wanted to go to a karaoke bar, so he drove them to the nearest one; in truth only Mashiro wanted to go. Love argued slurringly with the driver, he waved his hand in the air, smacked Rose in the face accidentally, then fell on his ass, paid the nice man and headed into the bar.

From what she could recollect, it was full of damn dick-heads singing their damn dick-head songs. Mashiro was already up on the stage, singing the theme tune to the 1980's version of Spiderman along with some rather nerdy looking man. But before Hiyori could comment, about to use the phrase 'dick-head' a lot, Lisa was handing her a shot of Sourz, and Love was cheering loudly, raising his hands high in the air to clap along to the music. The karaoke bar just seemed to slur past her in a drunken buzz, she could remember being carried onto the stage screaming and protesting by Mashiro and Love. But then next thing she remembered was howling into a microphone, swaying against Lisa to 'I feel like a woman' and 'Fame'. She could remember Toy-Boy-san who'd seemed to sober up, giving her a glass of water and patting her on the back… but she was outside the bar then, on her hands and knees in an alleyway… God, she felt like a teenager again.

Back in the bar, Kensei was taking the stage. She was groaning against Toy-Boy-san's jacket at the time, her arms wrapped around his middle, she could vaguely remember telling him he smelt nice for a dick-head… though he might not have been able to hear her over the music. She remembered hearing Toy-Boy-san groan 'Oh God' as he watched his lover stagger onto the stage, at one point, using Mashiro's head to support him. The green haired woman was clearly delighted that he wanted to sing, and was working as some sort of a support beam as he took the microphone in his hand. Oh God, it was the funniest thing she'd ever seen…

"This… this is a song," he slurred loudly, "It's a song for a very beautiful man... I love him," he smacked Mashiro's shoulder hard for effect, "Shuhei – get up here, kid!"

Toy-Boy-san seemed routed too the spot, his face the same colour as drunk's, though it was gained through embarrassment. He covered his face and muttered 'Oh God' again.

It got worse; Kensei broke into a loud and very slurred version of Mail Me, most of the time using Mashiro as a support stand, she was singing with him, standing very close, possibly to use the microphone, possibly to keep him from falling. When he was done singing he stumbled forwards, wrapped a muscled arm around Mashiro's chest and declared into the microphone that he 'loved this beautiful woman' and that she was a 'very irritating Saint'. Then he proceeded to sob into her shoulder for about a minute, before pulling back and holding the microphone up dramatically, he said a lot of inaudible things, before slumping off the stage and flopping onto Love, who seemed to have been attempting at stopping Rose from getting onto the stage.

Her little tight leather jacket had a vague vomit smell, and as they stood outside the karaoke bar waiting for another taxi, she remembered Toy-Boy-san giving her a jacket, She remembered falling asleep in the taxi, awakening in a violent drunken rage and asking for Shinji repeatedly, apparently she'd run away from Rose when he tried to take her keys out of her jeans back pocket. The next thing she remembered was Kensei carrying her, it was definitely Kensei because he was humming Mail Me and kept trying to bounce her up and down… it must have been Toy-Boy-san who took her off him, but he carried her like a little kid.

"Hiyori, what are ya doin' here?" Kensei appeared out of the bedroom, he looked a little green in the face, his eyes blood-shot… that guy was in excellent shape; she'd seen how the girls at the office queued outside the gym to watch him working out shirtless. Kensei was an irritating bastard at the best of times, but in Lisa's words 'his muscles do the talking and they talk well'.

"You bought me here, ya damn dick-head."

"Ah, shut-up."

Kensei would always retort with something like that when he had no idea of what to say. This was normally accompanied by him slamming his fist against a surface beneath or around him, as he did now, making the coffee machine judder.

Sometimes Hiyori would wonder how they skipped from their average lives to this glamorous all expenses paid roller coaster. There was a time where she was skipping middle school, Shinji was teaching at university, Kensei was a bouncer with Mashiro, Lisa was personal assistant to a lazy high school teacher, Rose played guitar in an unsuccessful jazz band, and Love owned a night club, Hachi ran a small charity shop on the high street. Admittedly if any of them were given the choice to go back and have what they did ten years ago, she was positive not one of them would swap back. It was just a scary thought that so much could happen in that time.

Last year Tabuki magazine ranked her as the most successful women under 25 in the country. She got to have her picture in some classy magazine wearing a lot of pretty clothes and holding her camera. It did look pretty impressive, she'd only just turned twenty-five four months ago, and she was richer than some people who'd worked their whole lives for success. If she wanted too, she could buy a house as big as Shihoin Yoruichi's, or a small island in the Caribbean. And what was better was that she worked hard, doing a job she loved, with people she considered to be closer than family. Sometimes it seemed like she was living a dream, a dream where a lot of boring things happened as well as the fun stuff, and eventually she'd wake up and be back as the little punk in her scroungy apartment.

Of course not everything was perfect. The last time she'd been with anyone was nearly a year and a half ago, not that her sex life had ever really been vibrant and colourful (Mashiro said it was probably her snarling that put people off, well Mashiro could go jump off a bridge!). These days the only man in her bed next to her was Shinji, the two of them having passed out there after drinking too much or Shinji feeling intimidated of the scary man who cleaned his apartment and decided the only logical place to go was Hiyori's (they'd fight over the covers until sheer exhaustion made them placid). Even worse was that Mashiro had, the other week, referred to that damn dick-head as her soul-mate; she'd said the two of them knew each other better than anyone else did and a load of other shit Hiyori would protest too. What did Mashiro know? She dressed like a fucking power ranger.

She'd been a really anti-social little kid; her childhood days included a lot of fighting and being suspended from various middle school's, her parents bowing their heads in shame and saying, 'Hiyori-chan, can't you be a good girl, for one day, just one day, that's all we ask?' – The answer would obviously be no. Her temper was almost infamous, she wasn't a dumb kid, she wasn't particularly a bad kid, but she was a very angry kid, and that always seemed to get her in trouble…

When she was fifteen, her parents adopted a new behaviour strategy; they sent her out to look for a job. It was damn frustrating… everywhere she went, the answer was no. The last place she looked was a really old looking building; it was a small store run by two men. One muscled with glasses and a thick moustache, the other was pale with blonde hair and a hat and clog shoes. Hiyori had marched right in there, slammed her hand down on the counter and told the blonde man straight up, 'Hey, dick-head, I ain't leavin' without a job!'

His reaction was kind of terrifying. His puzzled face lit up into a huge stupid smile, he looked like an idiot, or one of those… 'Dumb blondes' she'd seen on the TV. He held out a hand in front of her and said, 'Well that's good. We don't even have to put up the sign in the window.'

'Are you… an idiot?' she'd asked.

'No, I'm Kisuke. It's nice to meet you, would you like to fill out this form?'

What would have been most adult's nightmare; Kisuke and Tessai-san took on with rose-rimmed glasses. Sure sometimes Tessai-san would put in a few words here and there, but she never minded if it was from him. He was nice smart person. Kisuke was a damn dick-head and an idiot, and what was worse was, the idiot thing was a complete act! He was just so laid-back – laid-back people always made her loose her rag… They never fired her, or even threatened too, which even a very rational boss would have at least attempted considering once she nearly broke a boy's wrist when he stole some sweets. Not too mention that she was dangerously rude to a lot of the customers, calling everyone she found annoying a 'dick-head'. No, the most retribution she got was Tessai telling her to 'Watch her language'. If she thought about, she was sure Kisuke tried punishing her in less obvious ways, like forgetting she was still in the store before he locked up.

It was through Kisuke that she met any of her now closest comrades. Shinji was always visiting the shop; he still had long hair back then. He'd just been sacked and heavily sued. He often slept at the shop, sometimes in the company of that annoying beautiful dark skinned woman Kisuke liked so much. The first time she met him she'd been tending the shop, minding her own business when the idiot walked into the shop, didn't see her behind the counter (she'd forgotten the yellow pages she normally sat on), and just tried to walk into the back of the shop. Hiyori, having never seen this man before, mistook him for an extremely stupid burglar and leapt on top of him, smacking him with one of her sandals. The fact he started screaming and pulled one of her ponytails only made her angrier. Tessai and Kisuke had to break them up, Tessai doing his lifting her up by the hips and swinging her over a shoulder, Kisuke managing to get his arms under Shinji's armpits, explaining to him a little frantically that 'Our shop assistant is a little protective of the store, she just loves working here'.

The two of them often chatted at the shop, well, chatted, a more positive word for sitting and yelling at each other. She never saw why a grown man wouldn't have anything better to do then lie around in a deck chair in a small store. One time she voiced these opinions to him, and the damn dick-head threw the paper he was reading at her. She learnt later that he'd been trying to show her an article featuring some story about Shinji beating on a blind-guy for some reason, but at the time, she thought he was picking a fight…

When she was nearly sixteen she went with Kisuke to pick Shinji up from a bar. Kensei, a friend of his at the time, worked there as a bouncer, and Hiyori went with Kisuke in the car to collect the idiot. She'd thought it was hilarious; they arrived at some club, Kensei holding an unconscious Shinji over his shoulder, next to some silly chattering green haired woman (Mashiro). Though it wasn't all bad, Shinji snuck her into a jazz club once, she didn't like jazz music, but he bought her a beer.

Right now, as she sat drinking coffee next to her very hung-over comrade and his hot boyfriend around a 200-dollar American table, Hiyori wondered if the little girl who worked for Kisuke and Tessai still existed.

"Where's Shinji?" she asked suddenly, rubbing her forehead with her hand, "Ya remember where we dropped him off last night?"

Kensei rolled his eyes and shook his head, "Nah, I don't remember," he rubbed his temples too, trying to focus on his rather sketchy memories of last night, "I was looking after this one then," he gestured to Toy-Boy-san, who went pink. "Might' o' been at Yoruichi's…"

Ah, that made more sense than she could recall… Damn it, she hated loosing things when she was drunk, let alone actual people!

"Why would he wanna go Yoruichi's?" Hiyori snapped at him, "He'd wanna go to Kisuke's if he was gonna go anywhere."

"Kisuke was at that party," Kensei reminded her, tapping her hands on the desk, "He turned up to turf out the drunken brats. I remember c'os I spoke to him and Matsumoto-san."

Shuhei suddenly gasped as if remembering something significant, and then he looked embarrassed and shuffled nervously. This seemed to awaken something in Kensei, who howled with laughter and grabbed the younger man by the shoulders. "Yeah, it was Matsumoto-san who got you and that blonde friend of yours naked!"

Hiyori wondered if that had happened while she assaulted that guy in the street… Shinji had been mad at her for some reason, yeah, they were yelling at each other in front of the house next to the taxi. If she was too drunk to remember what they'd been fighting about, it probably couldn't be that important right?

The doorbell suddenly knocked her out of her thoughts; Kensei groaned and bellowed 'Coming', before getting up and heading over to the door, leaving Hiyori sat with Toy-Boy-san, who was now clearing up their coffee mugs… what was he? A maid? She briefly recalled Kensei saying Toy-Boy-san was too polite for his own good. That made sense; he was loading the dishwasher and everything…

"I just came to see you hadn't dropped her or anything," Lisa's voice snapped as she entered the apartment, she didn't look hung-over, but she did look agitated and tired. Rose was behind her, looking very much like she had dragged him out of bed this morning and he'd napped in the car.

"Nah, I'm not bruised or nothing," she waved from her seat at the table. Lisa walked past Kensei to sit down beside her, Rose joining them quickly. Kensei muttering about how this was his 'house an' not a fuckin' bar'…

"That's good," Rose admitted, rubbing his eyes, "Lisa's doing her usual safety check," he looked over at Kensei, "Where's your coffee machine?"

Lisa was probably the reason nobody was dead in their group. Mornings after involved answering your phone to her voice, just making sure where you were. Hiyori briefly heard her saying that Love was spending the day in bed, but Mashiro was on her way…

"No she's not," Kensei snapped suddenly, bashing his hand down on the desk again… really he was acting like he was a judge or something! "That woman is not coming here when I'm hung-over."

If she was completely honest Hiyori wasn't fond of the idea either… Mashiro didn't really drink, or she hadn't last night, so she had no idea that her loud high-pitched voice was nerve-wracking for everyone else. That and if they were at Kensei's it was guarantied that Mashiro would go through his things.

"Tough shit," Lisa sighed. "Rose, can you make me a coffee too?"

"Sure. Would anyone else like one?"

Kensei growled, "It's my coffee machine, I don't remember anyone asking to use it?" He let out a defeated sigh, "Yeah, make me one too."

"Hiyori, you want one?"

"Nah just had one."

"What about you, Toy–!" Rose seemed to catch himself before he said it, coughing awkwardly and praying nobody else had noticed.

"No thanks," he said, gesturing with his hand to the bathroom, "I was just gonna take a shower, if you'll excuse me?" he mumbled politely, before vanishing into the bathroom.

"He's so shy," Lisa chuckled once they all heard the door close.

"Probably because you all keep calling him 'Toy-Boy-san'!" Kensei snarled, "That would make anyone feel self-conscious!"

Rose rolled his eyes, putting cups of coffee down in front of the others, before settling down opposite Hiyori, "We don't do it to be cruel, Kensei, really it just slips out."

"Stop it slipping out then."

"Who started that anyway?" Lisa asked, sipping her coffee, now inspecting the apples in the fruit bowl looking for the best one, "I know it wasn't me."

"I think it was Hachi."

"Hiyori, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Kensei cut in, "Hachi always addresses him as 'Hisagi-kun'."

Her eyes narrowed, "Yeah, to his face."

The four of them stayed quiet for a few more minutes, Hiyori noticed how Rose was holding his head… poor guy, how Kensei and Lisa seemed to be having some sort of telepathic war over the apple she was currently eating… Suddenly her question from earlier seemed a lot more relevant.

"Hey, do any of you remember where we left Shinji last night?"

"I already told ya, I think we dropped him at Yoruichi's," Kensei snapped at her, before rising to his feet, "How long does he intend to stay in the shower?" She heard him muttering as he headed to the hallway, knocking loudly on the bathroom door and calling for his lover.

"To be honest, I don't remember," Lisa shrugged her shoulders, "I know he wasn't drunk when we left him… he got out of the taxi, none of us pushed him like the time we kicked Kensei out," there was an undeniable smirk on her face as she considered that memory. It had been hilarious, the sight of his furious expression getting further and further into the distance as Shinji slammed down on the gas.

Rose cleared his throat, "It was definitely some classy place we dropped him. He was pissed off about something, you and him were yelling for a bit?"

What the hell could they have been arguing about?

Someone was at the door again, and based on the fact they were tapping it to the theme tune of some pop song Hiyori heard on the radio the other day, it was probably Mashiro. Glancing around for Kensei, she noticed he was in the bathroom now… God they couldn't be at it again, could they? She was sure even Kensei wasn't as bad as that! Lisa went to the door on his behalf, and instantly put a finger to her lips, hissing something that sounded a little like 'Keep it down, or Kensei will throw us all out'. Sometimes she wondered if Mashiro had brain damage or something, she was giggling excitedly and making some 'Sssh' noises. What a fool.

To think they were meant to be in work today… well that was clearly happening. Maybe they'd just see Shinji at work. He probably got home safely, either at Yoruichi's or being driven to his actual home by Yoruichi's creepy little maid. Hiyori shrugged her shoulders and stretched as Mashiro took Kensei's seat and eagerly snatched up a bright red apple.

"Where's Kensei?" she whispered excitedly.

"Hopefully just talking with Toy-Boy-san," Rose rolled his eyes, gesturing to the bathroom with his head.

Lisa and Hiyori snorted, glancing over at Mashiro who looked like she hadn't quite understood what he'd meant but nodded happily anyway.

"Mashiro, you might remember, you only drank one cocktail at that karaoke bar," Rose piped up, "Do you remember where Shinji got too last night, we're all at a bit of a loss."

She nodded her head, "Of course I remember! Shin-Shin went to Aizen's," she bit into her apple, crunching away as if nothing else needed to be said on the matter.

Aizen's? What the hell… what business would Shinji having seeing that old fruit? No, that simply couldn't be right; besides Aizen had a restraining order against Shinji, everyone knew that.

"Sosuke Aizen?" Rose blinked, and then laughed aloud, "Mashiro, I really doubt Shinji was at Sosuke Aizen's last night."

"What's the supposed to mean? I remember him telling the taxi driver to stop outside that big house!" she snapped defensively.

"You'll be thinking of Yoruichi's house," Lisa snapped at her, "Don't be dim, you know, the one we go to for a rich-people party every six months?"

Mashiro pouted, turning her head away from them, "I know where Yoruichi-chan's house is!" She put her hands out, shaking her fingers on her left hand, "This one on the left is hers, and Shinji went towards the one on the right! He had to climb across me to get out the right door!"

"I really don't think he'd go see Aizen, Mashiro," Lisa sighed, rubbing her forehead, "I'm pretty sure if he had, we'd have received a message by now to inform us we were all being sued."

Hiyori laughed loudly, "Yeah, Shinji would totally gut that guy!"

"Of course he would," Rose nodded, "He has absolutely no business with Aizen. I know he's joked about breaking into Aizen's house to steal back erotic photos or something like that, but he only says dumb things like that when he's been drinking."

Lisa smirked, "Yeah, when he's drunk he frequently tells me I'm his first love," she said sarcastically.

"Pfft, is there a woman he hasn't said that too?" the blonde man smirked.

Hiyori's eyes narrowed, "Yes."

***

Sometimes Karin Kurosaki wondered if she was just unlucky. Admittedly to most standards she wasn't particularly unlucky, but the embarrassment caused to her by her stupid father would probably wind her up in therapy in ten years time. She didn't know how (and she was 100% certain Ichigo would agree with her) Yuzu could just smile and laugh about his antics!

The man was a menace! However he tricked their mother into marrying him, she didn't know. Especially considering that upon describing the relationship he'd once shared with his wife, he said 'I treat my children with the love and respect I showed my darling Masaki'. Which could only mean he'd chased her everywhere, and embarrassed her in front of her friends, and attempted to administer bone-crushing embraces to her as well. Good God! And they had three children?

Last night had been a sham! With a test tomorrow and soccer practice after school, Karin had gone to bed early, Yuzu around the same time. Ichigo was out at a friend's house, so she assumed it would be a peaceful enough evening. Oh no, their father came into their room late at night to wake them up and tell them he was 'Going out on a mission of youth'. Naturally Yuzu had gone right back to sleep, whereas it took Karin another 40 minutes… She couldn't have been asleep for very long, when someone in the kitchen was loudly making food. Upon rolling onto her side with her pillow away from being tightly clenched around her head, she recognized the voices as Ichi-nii's and his boyfriend with the blue hair. Yuzu may have slept through it, but she definitely couldn't, they kept clattering around the kitchen and laughing and going 'Sssh' at each other. She heard them staggering up the stairs and falling against the walls of the hallway, then worst of all, slurping kissing sounds in Ichigo's room. And she'd bagged Ichigo as the responsible one! Not by any means – if she had to make a list of things she never wanted to hear, her brother loosing his virginity would rank in the top (right next to her father singing 'Happy Birthday'). It was one of those horrifying moments where you realize what's going on, but are too scared to react to it. Karin had gone to great lengths to block out the sound, she covered her ears, she hid under the blankets, she held her pillow over her head, she reached around and found Yuzu's MP3 player… for five minutes she was saved… until it ran out of batteries. Twice she thought about banging on the wall, just to let them know she was awake… twice she managed to talk herself out of doing so. It was going to be embarrassing enough to look at the pair of them tomorrow morning without Ichigo trying to have a 'talk' about it.

So naturally with a combination of all of those difficult factors, despite her best wishes to keep quite about Ichigo's…erm… antics, she was so pissed off in the morning that when Yuzu said 'How are you this morning, Karin?' She ended up yelling about her lack of sleep and the reasons this was impossible. Not only did she embarrass Yuzu horribly, but the sight of Ichigo and Grimmjow making breakfast in a hung-over good natured kind of way made her blood boil. They clearly had a good night's sleep after they finished! Unlike her, who'd been too mortified to sleep? Yuzu being the motherly kind of person, was too shocked to address it properly, but took her sister into their bedroom and begged her to tell their father what had happened. Of course it was against her will, but her sister had already dialled the number… The conversation had been short and awkward, but she thought she'd gotten her point across.

"Erm… hello?"

"Karin – is that the voice of my adorable Karin?"

"No, Dad."

"Aw yes it is! My little Karin – did you miss Daddy so much you had to call!" (He went off on a bit of a rant about this, until fifteen minutes later he worked out her call had a purpose. "So was there something you wanted, sweetie?"

"Well, erm…" It was difficult enough to say. "I erm… heard strange noises in Ichigo's room last night."

"You heard strange noises? What kinds of strange noises, Karin?"

Idiot – idiot – idiot!

"Erm… well, they were just strange, I suppose. Erm… breathy noises…"

There was a pause. That was as far as she was going with describing what she heard, if he asks her to specify again, she'd hang up. But no, there was a long pause, then a mortified gasp. And then he just tried to stutter through a coherent sentence, "W-Well – Well, K-Karin, Daddy has to go – yes, Daddy has to go! Have a good day at school, learn a lot – Daddy loves you, give your sister a kiss from me! Goodbye!"

What an idiot. Did nobody know how to deal with this?

Naturally, with Yuzu's guilty mind at rest, but all it did was make her feel uneasy. Karin went to school, worrying about their father coming home to Ichigo than any of her trials today.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen  
by Rob

The strangest thing about Urahara Shoten was that – like its owner – it was a place full of contradictions. It was conveniently located, it had friendly staff who were always pleased to attend to your needs, and it had everything a housewife could possibly want or need to placate her family. Gin couldn't remember a single time when he'd enter and not find the place filled to the brim with sweets, deserts, biscuits, cookies and other delicious little pieces. Always filled with items that schoolchildren would love to buy on the way home from school, always loaded with items that a wife was sure her children would love to be served for desert, and yet the place was always so deserted!

It was both a mystery and a waste. It should have been a crime to go into such a quaint, little sweetshop and not find one customer, not one to appreciate the delicious aromas or the nostalgic atmosphere, and yet that was always the case, never one person to enjoy the otherwise perfect shop. No doubt the locals always pondered why the shop failed when there was a good niche for it in the consumerist city, and no doubt they also wondered how the shopkeeper managed to live considering he had no visible income, but to those few knowledgeable people there were fewer contradictions than there first seemed . . .

Gin knew from years of experience that nothing should ever be taken at face value, and Urahara Kisuke was a prime example of that. The shop was merely a front, a smiling face hiding a blackened heart, something to distract from the real inner workings of the shop and its inhabitants. It was like a magician's sleight of hand, the dizzying amount of sweets kept you going 'ooh' and 'ah', whilst deep in the shop's lair all the real twist and turns went on. Kisuke dealt in pretty much anything. You wanted some black market goods? Done. You wanted a wound healing that you couldn't go to the hospital for? Double done! You wanted some information that no one else knew? Triple done, and please come again! The man kept off the police radar brilliantly, and even if he ever got caught he had contacts just about everywhere, from the local schoolboy to probably the Chief of Police. The Vizards trusted him, Gin's students hung out with him, the Arrancar sometimes swapped information with him, and even Gin found the occasional need for Kisuke's talents. Besides, even if you didn't need anything from him it was best to keep in touch now and again, because you never knew when you would need something in the future. The thing to remember was that nothing was ever free, and even if the cost were seemingly small it'd still be costing you, and so Gin made sure that with ever visit he always had payment ready so that he could cover his bill.

Today – just as he'd expected – the shop was completely empty. True it was still eleven o'clock, not many shoppers to be found at that time on a school day and workday, but he had a feeling that whatever time he came the shop would have been just as empty regardless.

He walked inside gracefully with a smile and picked up a basket from beside the shop doors. It was simply a case of 'two birds with one stone'; tonight he'd invited Izuru-kun over for dinner, but with an empty fridge he found himself needing to stock up on food, granted he could have shopped anywhere but 'anywhere' didn't deal in the specific 'items' he needed. What he needed most was information; the sweets were just a bonus.

After a few minutes of shopping the screen-door to the private rooms opened, revealing Abarai-kun sweeping the dining room with a rather exhausted expression, and Kisuke-san sitting calmly by the table fanning his stubbled face. The two youngest children were absent, although he'd spoken moments earlier to Tessai-san who'd been walking by, it seemed he'd gone to collect the two children from their babysitters' home. Gin found himself grateful for the silence. He did adore children after all, but Kisuke-san's little ones were a bit too much, always shouting, yelling, fighting . . . Gin still had yet to work out how to fully control and handle them. He much preferred the quieter personalities; the extroverted ones were always so much more work. He'd much rather spend his hours with the likes of Izuru-kun or Kuchiki-san, than with someone like Grimmjow-san or Kurosaki-kun, any day. Luckily Kisuke-san was the sort of personality who fell dead in the middle! Not too lively as to tax his patience, but not too dull as to make him want to play games with him and torture him a little bit. The perfect medium!

"Ah! Kisuke-san!" Gin exclaimed brightly, smiling wide and tilting his head ever so slightly as if observing an unexpected sight, "What a coincidence! I was looking for ya everywhere, I'd almost gave up hope!"

Kisuke watched Gin carefully, his fan still waving slightly so as to keep up an air of nonchalance, and his eyes darkened by his hat never moved from the teacher's thin frame as it wavered about his shop.

It wasn't exactly a rare occurrence to see Gin loitering around his property, but considering the man barely ate his usual reason for stopping by always seemed to be information. It wasn't that Kisuke minded trading items of importance, but when it came to Gin he was one customer who couldn't be trusted. You could never tell what he'd want or why he'd want it, sometimes Kisuke would find himself revealing the most mundane of facts only to later discover it was vitally important after all, or passed onto Aizen . . . It was hard to deal with a man that was impossible to understand, impossible to trust, but on the bright side it did tend to make things more interesting . . .

"Ah," Kisuke said casually, "I see that it slipped your mind to look for a shopkeeper in his own shop?"

"Forgive me, Kisuke-san," His smile never faltering, "But when tha' shopkeeper's the one-and-only Urahara-san, the last place anyone ever looks is in his shop! It seems t' me like the only time ya ever here is when no one wants ya; when ya wanted ya always sleeping, sick, busy or out. No wonder I didn't look here first, is it?"

Kisuke gave a bright smile of his own, hiding it of course behind his open fan. He would be the first to admit that Gin was creepy as they came, and probably as sneaky as Aizen himself, but although he wasn't overly fond of what Ichigo had dubbed the 'fox-face', he had a certain attachment to him nonetheless. After all there weren't many people who could engage him in such keen mental games, or who could see past his own attempts at manipulation or trickery, and it was always fun to try and work out Gin's mystery motives. True after the week Kisuke had been having Gin's face wasn't the first one he'd want to see, but it never hurt to have someone to talk to whose intellect added up to more than Renji's and Ichigo's.

"Well, you obviously thought you had some chance of finding me, Ichimaru-Sensei," Kisuke said indifferently enough, whilst he kept a close eye on Renji who seemed rather uneasy in the presence of his teacher, "Otherwise you wouldn't have came to my shop at all, wouldn't you say?"

"On the contrary! What with half my day empty, thanks to Abarai-kun's year-group havin' the day off school an' all, I decided to stop by to stock up on some food. Got a date tonight an' no food in, it's something dreadful! I feel too bad stoppin' by Aizen-sama's to steal some, what after last night . . . Ja! So I thought I'd do some shopping, see?" He lifted up a large bag in his left hand, "Got all my groceries done, nothing left but some sweets and deserts."

It was hard to keep an impassive face at that moment, but somehow Kisuke managed. He had to hand it to Gin, the man was a master manipulator, always managing to work a situation to his advantage without ever even working a sweat or making an effort, and always done so effectively that the common victim would have no idea at all they'd been played like a puppet on a string. The little slip of a comment about how something had occurred with Aizen last night seemed innocuous enough, but to a man like Kisuke he knew the comment wasn't as offhand or as casual as it seemed. It was carefully placed to pique his interest and curiosity, thrown in to test the waters for whatever conversation topic was to come, and frankly it had worked like a charm.

Kisuke wanted to know more – especially seeing as he knew last night had to involve Shinji somehow – but he'd be damned if he let Gin know that. Instead he kept a smiling slightly, wafting his fan and looking casually across the room to his 'customer' who continued to shop around for bargain items.

To his side he could see Renji now finishing his sweeping and beginning to polish. The bonfire had long since burnt out and Kisuke had been forced to reveal that Renji's belongings hadn't been burnt after all, however if he wanted them returned any time soon he'd of course need to perform a week of perfect punishment. Punishments which included keeping the shop spotless, keeping Yoruichi's house spotless and keeping Ishida's wards spotless. It was a near enough impossible task, which was probably why Renji hadn't stopped glaring at him yet and why every cup of tea he'd been served seemed suspiciously thick, but no matter! Every time his darling son sent evil stares in his direction all he had to do was remind him that his belongings rested in Kisuke's hands, and suddenly Renji was all fake smiles again. The poor, little guy was so easy to play.

Back to the matter at hand however, there was no point asking Gin directly about Aizen because it'd be allowing Gin the upper hand, letting him know he held all the cards and all the power. There was also the fact that if the information was juicy enough and important enough then what reason would Gin possibly have to reveal it? He'd want something in return, whatever that something may be, and so asking outright would come to no avail. His best bet was to skirt around the issue with small talk, forcing Gin to come right out with a direct approach if he ever at all wanted to get what he really came here for. It was just a good job little Rukia-chan wasn't here, poor girl always sweltered and panicked when Kuchiki-san and Ichimaru-sensei engaged in small talk, not that Renji fared any better . . .

"Ah, so you have a date tonight, huh?" He might as well make conversation, it was the longest way to get to the heart of matters but it was always the best way of dealing with Ichimaru in his experience, "I guess that explains all the food. We never usually see you much in here otherwise, not that I've ever known you to have a date for that matter. Is it anyone I know? It's not Matsumoto-san, is it?"

"Rangiku-chan? Nah! She's like a sister t' me."

"Oh? Then who?"

"I doubt yer'd know him, Kisuke-san," Gin said with a bright smile, "It's someone I know from work, ya know?"

Now this was definitely worth digging into . . . Although Kisuke wasn't exactly acquaintances with all of the teachers in the school, and certainly he didn't know all of the staff, it was very likely that Renji – being a pupil – would know whoever it was. Not that Kisuke had a personally interest in the matter, but in his general experience information was worth a lot more in terms of price than possessions, and if this was something Gin wanted kept secret then it was probably worth a lot in terms of price. It'd be worth trying to dig something out of him in case it was useful later on, and if it was actually nothing than there was nothing lost, right?

"I see," Kisuke said hiding his face underneath his hat and behind his fan, "It's not someone like Kyoraku-sensei, is it? Someone whom you really shouldn't be dating, like an illicit affair?"

"Aw, ya don't think too highly of me, do ya?" He gave a soft, pretend pout before bouncing back to his usual self, watching Kisuke's expression closely, "Nah, it ain't nothing like that! If ya must know we just want t' keep it under wraps for a while, not sure how his family would take it an' all. I do love him though, you can relate, can't ya? He's this hot, little blonde with the cutest, blue eyes, and so thin and small that yer scared he might break when ya hold him. Yer'd just love him, Kisuke-san! He's smart, ya know? He writes books and stuff, and he's not bigheaded like Hiyori-chan, he's all quiet and shy and he even stutters when he gets all nervous. Ah, listen to me, ain't often I babble like this."

Gin shot a dark look to Renji who suddenly dropped the can of polish from where he stood. It was odd to see him suddenly so clumsy, not that he wasn't usually clumsy, but it was never to such a degree where he'd drop such an easy-to-hold item. Then again it had been Kira he'd been talking about, maybe Renji had recognised the description? Nah, now that was a ridiculous idea! Gin was Renji's teacher, he knew the kid wasn't all that bright, and frankly it wasn't exactly an obvious match either, who'd ever consider Gin and Kira an item? Not only that but there had to be a dozen or so blondes in town, Shinji being one of them, so perhaps Renji's clumsiness was just that: clumsiness.

"Don't worry, I was the same way when I first dated Tessai." Kisuke said, breaking his train of thought, "Although, you can't be here just to talk about romance, can you, Gin?"

"Hmm? Oh, nah. Actually I wanted to trade some information with ya. Something ya might like if ya must know, something worth trading for."

"Really?"

It seemed like Kisuke was right, the young teacher wasn't just here to shop for a date on his morning off work, he was here for information and in return he had information to give, something he thought Kisuke might like . . . No doubt it involved Aizen somehow, especially considering that not-so-subtle hint that Gin had dropped earlier on, but the question was would the information be worth it? He already knew that Shinji had earlier stopped by Aizen's, and he knew that the Vizards were still out looking for him, especially seeing as they'd finally worked out where they're leader had gone to last night, but could Gin really have anything to add to that? Could he really know more than what Kisuke, Hiyori and the others knew themselves? Then there was also the matter of what Gin would want in return. If he really knew something that Kisuke didn't then his information had to be valuable, but likewise he would want something of equal worth in return, something that would make the exchange worthwhile.

Gin was watching him with keen interest. His eyes were tensed somewhat, narrowed and focused upon Kisuke as if analysing him and his every expression and movement, and the way his smile seemed to curl at the corners looked almost sadistic. It was as if he was deriving enjoyment from holding some power over the shopkeeper, as if he hoped to keep him on the edge for as long as possible, dangling over his head the temptation of knowledge as if to torment him and tease him. Part of him wanted to give into the temptation and just outright ask him what it was he knew, but the game didn't work that way, and it never had. He had to play by Ichimaru's rules, if he didn't then he wouldn't get any information at all, and if he played the game wrongly then Ichimaru could end up extracting all the information he wanted without giving anything in return.

He watched carefully as Ichimaru brought his items to the till to purchase, and watched as Renji dragged his feet to the front to serve his teacher, he'd probably give him a discount of some sort too in order to try and sweeten him a little bit . . . It'd be a good thing if he did try something like that, Lord knew his grades could have done with his teachers being a bit more lenient.

"Well, ya see, it was all so strange, ya know?" Gin looked off into the distance with a sight pout, looking as innocent as possible for a man like him, "Last night after the party an' all, we stopped by Rangiku's for a drink or two. It was pretty fun. Ya wouldn't believe her new marketing gimmick! She got those party photos developed pretty quick, 'cause a friend o' ours is a photographer, see, so she's made a 'wall of shame' with everyone's photos up. Parents and guardians get ten percent off for every photo of their kid on there. Says to tell ya that ya got fifty percent off. You should have got about one-hundred-and-twenty percent off but there ain't no profit in that, so we gonna rotate the photos each day instead."

Whilst it was always interesting to hear Gin's little tangents, which although seemingly random always brought in useful information of their own, the fact that his son had humiliating photos plastered over a wall in a popular bar was beyond frustrating for Kisuke. It wasn't that Kisuke couldn't remember what it was like to be young, in fact he had photos lurking around in distant drawers that still made him wince to see even now, but that was him and this was Renji. It was frustrating enough to keep being reminded of his son's antics, and to keep being reminded of just how hard it was to teach him a lesson, but to have Renji's ridiculous escapades exposed in a place where all his friends visited was just too much. He was already dreading a phone call from Kuchiki-san blaming Renji for ruining Rukia-chan, or Zaraki-san stopping around to ask him if he'd seen Ikkaku-kun . . .

Frankly it was no wonder that Renji looked liked he wanted to ground to swallow him badly, his eyes looking nervously upon his father as if trying to weigh up how bad the situation was. In fact Kisuke had half a mind to close the shop early, drag the little boozer down to Rangiku's and see just what the damage was for himself, because he seriously doubted any of his friends' kids would have anything as bad on display as what Renji would have. That was for sure.

"I see," Kisuke said coldly, glaring at Renji for all it was worth, "I'll be sure to pay the bar a visit later on, it'll be very interesting to see what my son gets up to when he thinks no one is watching."

"Yeah, trust me, its worth seeing! We couldn't put all o' them up though, some o' the kids were doing stuff that we ain't allowed to post in public, so we destroyed those ones. I had to 'confiscate' a few o' Kira-kun of course, I mean the photos were a bit indecent, weren't they? Only doing my job as an official educator an' all, couldn't let Matsumoto-san keep 'em, could I?"

Renji let out a rather suspicious sound that caused Gin to look directly in his direction. He pulled his now packed bag of items off from the counter, quickly depositing the appropriate yen bill on the counter, all whilst giving his student a rather cold, calculating look. Abarai-kun wasn't exactly the brightest or most adorable student at the best of times, and at times like these he really knew how to hit a nerve or two.

"Ah, Abarai-kun," Gin said sweetly with a dangerous smile, "Ya got something ya want to say t' me?"

"Err . . . No, sir."

"Good." His eyes quickly softened as he turned back to Kisuke, gazing at the shopkeeper with an almost gentle expression, "Now, about what I wanted t' talk to you about . . . Ya see, it's about poor, old Ukitake-san, I was wondering how he might be doing, ya know?"

Ah, of course . . . The crux of the matter. It seemed that the information Gin wanted was concerning Ukitake-Sensei, and although the question seemed innocent enough he knew that there had to be a hidden meaning behind it.

The likeliest matter was that he was asking on behalf of Aizen, that somehow information of how Urahara had used a dying man as a test subject had leaked out, and that Aizen – taking on Kurostuchi's case – wanted more information. That was the problem however, Kisuke trusted Mayuri with his very life, and although Mayuri was looking to extort all the money he could from Ishida-san he wouldn't be willing to put anyone else in jeopardy to do so, or at least not Kisuke. Mayuri had even been willing to help out administering the medicine and keep records, and he had actually been thrilled to have a human test-subject, so even if he had been willing to get Kisuke a criminal record by selling him out he'd only be putting his own reputation on the line also. There was a very select, small group of people who knew about Ukitake's treatment, and no matter how hard Kisuke analysed the situation he couldn't see that demonic lawyer possibly knowing about the situation . . . If that was the case he'd just have to be very careful what he said and how he worded it, making sure that no piece of information escaped that he didn't want out. It was that or making sure that whatever information Gin had was so good, that it equalled out to any information that he had to give about Ukitake.

"Ah, Ukitake-Sensei," Kisuke said coolly, "Hmm, well I suppose you could always ask the man directly how he feels. You also work alongside Kyoraku-Sensei, so you could always ask him too, couldn't you, Gin?"

"Yeah! I tried! I can't get hold of him at all! Kyoraku-san ain't been at work the last few days either, and cause of Kurostuchi's lawsuit it means that Ukitake-san can't get treatment . . . I'm kind o' scared, Kisuke-san."

Okay, that was unexpected. If Kisuke didn't know any better he would have said that Gin was being sincere . . . His smile had faltered ever so slightly, his lips moving up and down as if undecided whether to frown or smile, and his colouring had paled ever so slightly so that as his eyes opened partially their red seemed all the more vibrant than ever. It was so unusual to see Gin genuinely worried or hurt, and the way his shoulders hunched just slightly and his gaze fell downwards, it just left him looking so vulnerable. If it was an act it was a very good one, but something told Kisuke that this was a rare glimpse of his true feelings, and in a moment when he jumped up with a 'Ja! I'm fine!' that would be the real lie.

"Ja! It ain't that important, I guess," Gin said, predictably jumping slightly as his he grin came back on his face full-force, "It's just there ain't that many people who like me, ya know? Everyone seems t' hate me except Aizen-sama, Rangiku-chan and Kira-kun . . . Ukitake-Sensei was always nice t' me, an' he even read Izuru's book when I asked him! He's such a nice guy. I know he probably hates me, but he ain't never shown it. I don't want anything bad t' happen to him. So if ya know anything, Kisuke -?"

"I guess it depends. What information is it that you wanted to trade?"

"Ah! Something good, I promise ya! It's about a certain, little blonde who went to Aizen-sama's last night. A little birdie told me what he was up to and where he is now, and it sounded like something my pal Kisuke might wanna know."

Kisuke let out an almost silent sight. Truthfully it was something he wanted to know, and it was also something the other Vizards wanted to know too, judging by the incessant phone calls he'd gotten earlier on talking about how they'd 'lost' Shinji. Of course they'd worked out after a long while that Shinji went to Aizen's last night, but not one person could work out where he was now. They'd tried everywhere of course, including Urahara Shoten and Kurosaki Clinic, hoping that he'd crashed the night at Ichigo or Kisuke's, but the search had come to no avail. In the end the Vizards had settled for 'general panic' and hanging out at Kensei's in the hope that Shinji would just show up, but Kisuke couldn't work that way, after all he may be laid-back but that was only with matters he had full understanding and control over. He had no idea what Shinji was and that fact terrified him. He wouldn't show it of course but he was dreading the moment when Shinji would call or drop by, just telling him something horrendously wrong had happened between him and Aizen. If Gin really did have answers then perhaps a trade would really be worth it.

It took a while but eventually he decided that it was perhaps for the best to participate in this little 'trade'. It wasn't as though he had anything to lose, and on the contrary he had a lot to gain, it made sense to play Gin's games if it meant that the little mystery of one Hirako Shinji could be solved. So with flick of his wrist he closed his fan and wandered half-aimlessly over to the counter, pushing Renji out the way half-heartedly. It wasn't a harsh push, but it wasn't exactly a soft one either, it was the sort of push only a parent could give, one that said 'I love you, but if you keep getting in my way I will kill you'. He gave a quick glance to Renji and nodded over to a few empty shelves, and – thankfully getting the hint – Renji ducked down into one of the cupboards to get some stock, stacking the shelves with an expression of mindless boredom.

"Deal, Ichimaru." He said a bit too curtly than he'd intended, "If you must know Ukitake is fine. We've tested the antidote on him and he seems to be making improvement. It was only injected into his bloodstream a few days ago, and we need to keep a close eye on him and make sure we administer the correct medicine in the meantime, but hopefully it'll be okay. We'll need a week to make certain it's worked, another week to make certain there's no relapse, complications and that it's definitely worked. Oh, and you can tell Aizen this, but considering Mayuri's also involved there's nothing he can do with this information. To get me into trouble would be get Mayuri into trouble, and his case would be ruined then."

At once Gin seemed to perk up. His eyes closed once again but this time softly, without any of the harsh lines that appeared when he was experiencing a negative emotion, and his lips pulled into such a bright smile his cheeks brightened and his lips reddened. He seemed alive and vibrant, a happy change from his previous subtle melancholy, and considering the information provided was useless to him Kisuke could only believe it was relief that Gin felt. He was genuinely relieved that his colleague was likely going to be okay.

"Ja! Thank goodness! I'll be sure to make him some yummy treats to wish him well, and I'll get the kids in class to make cards tomorrow, I'm sure they'll be happy not to do history if it means they get to make cards for Ukitake-san!"

"Yeah, now about Shinji, Gin."

"Ah, yeah, only fair I tell you, right?" This time Gin's smile made the very subtle change into his sadistic expression, complete with a slight tilt of the head that cast his face in shadow, adding to the dark look, "Well, if ya must know last night Kyoraku and I got pretty drunk, and Rangiku was too drunk t' drive us home, so we got a hold of Zaraki-san and asked him to pick us up. Rangiku was ever so nice! She waved us as we drove off, and she was even willing to watch little Yachiru-chan for the night 'cause it was so late! Well, ya know how it goes, right? My home is pretty far away from Kyoraku's, and I couldn't crash at my boyfriend's cause it was so late, so I asked Zaraki-san if he wouldn't mind dropping me off at Aizen-sama's. It's right between Kyoraku's place and Zaraki's place, so it was ever so convenient! Anyways, that's when I saw it, you're little friend Shinji."

"Oh, and what did you see exactly?"

"Well I'd been the one to tell Shinji Aizen-sama's address, and I'd let the guards know in advance it was okay t' let 'im in, so I kind o' expected him to be there, but 'cause I was so drunk I accidentally stumbled into one o' the surveillance rooms." If Kisuke didn't know better he would have believed Gin, but considering the nature of the man there was no way he 'accidentally' did anything, drunk or sober. "Well, ya see Aizen likes to leave all his cameras on, just in case somethin' happens, but I noticed the one t' the master bedroom had been turned off. I tell ya, it was such a surprise t' find out there's cameras even in the bedrooms; I'll need to be careful if I ever take my boyfriend over! It was such a shock, ya see? There I was all drunk too, so I figured that I ought to turn the camera back on, 'cause if there were cameras in every room and one was off, well it had to be a mistake, didn't it? Well, I turned it on and guess what I saw -!"

"I think I can guess . . ."

"Can ya? Well let me tell ya it was some pretty kinky stuff, stuff that I ain't even got round to tryin' yet, I mean he was all tied up with Shinji on top o' him like -!"

Kisuke coughed loudly and nodded over in Renji's direction, flicking open his fan as he did so hide his own embarrassed expression. It wasn't that he thought his son was naïve and innocent enough to be ruined by such scandalous gossip, but he simply didn't think that hearing the activities of two grown men was appropriate for a fifteen-year-old to hear. After all Shinji and Aizen were two powerful men, and Shinji was kind of like an uncle to Renji, it'd be a lot better not to hear all the nasty details. Then again, if he were to be honest, Kisuke didn't want to hear the details anyway. Sure he was well over Shinji, and they'd never been that serious anyway, and it wasn't as if Shinji was that good in bed . . . but he really didn't want to hear what his ex-lover was up to these days in that department. It was just awkward.

"Ja, sorry, I forgot ya son was eavesdropping," Gin said nervously, "Anyways I deleted the tape, so no evidence o' what they were up to –" Yeah, Kisuke thought, Drunk people are always so good at working fiddly technological equipment, "– and then I went t' bed, ya know? Next morning I just wandered by Aizen's room and had a few words with Shinji. He was a bit angry, don't know why. Yeah, and then he said he was going t' work, said he'd spend the day in his office. Ah, that's all I know!"

Of course, no wonder the Vizards never found him. Who'd ever think of looking for one of the Vizards in their office on a workday? They were all pretty hung over, all rather stressed, and all very confused, and considering work was a very casual thing where they turned up when they wanted or really needed to, was it any wonder they hadn't stumbled across Shinji yet? Of course he'd have to tell them where to find him, but he wondered whether best to keep quiet about the fact Shinji had slept with Aizen, after all that was no one's business but Shinji's. Still, what was Shinji thinking? Aizen had ruined them both! He'd completely decimated Shinji's career and spent all his time thinking up tricks to ruin everyone else's lives as well. Shinji wouldn't have stooped so low as to sleep with Aizen just so he wouldn't sue Hiyori, would he? Would he really whore himself out like that just to stop a court case? Of course he was a grown man, he could do what he wanted, but still . . . It didn't seem right. It seemed rather wrong.

"My, it gets worse too," Gin said casually, "Someone might o' slipped the guy a card-key with Arrancar Corps. details on it, ya know? The temper he's in he might start some trouble, hope he don't cause problems for poor old Luppi or Ulquiorra, they both had an early start today . . . Right! I better head home, got t' cook up a storm for my cute, little blonde! See you around, Kisuke-san!"

"Yeah, see you around, Ichimaru."

Well, one thing was for sure, the information was certainly useful, after all they now knew where Shinji was and what he'd been up to. They also knew where he was likely to be headed next, but Kisuke was left with the daunting feeling he would have been a lot better off not knowing. That was Gin for you though; you always got a lot more than you bargained for . . .

* * *

Grimmjow couldn't ever remember a morning being so perfect.

Usually mornings consisted of desperately trying to kill the sounds of an alarm clock by beating it against the wall, or trying to sneak into the work's side entrance so you could pretend you'd been there all along and weren't really late. If it was a particularly good morning then you might be desperately trying to find your trousers before Luppi woke up, praying to God that you could make it out without having to talk to the feminine looking freak. Basically mornings weren't relaxing, fun or enjoyable, they were just a terrible joke God played on you to remind you that although you were nice and cosy now in a few moments you'd be busy as hell, wishing you were back in bed. It was probably from his awful past experiences that he relished this one so much. It was something like a dream, making him pray there'd be more mornings like this to come.

Everything was just perfect, heavenly and dreamlike . . . Sure that might have just been the afterglow talking, but there more to it than that. He could smell a delicious aroma of fresh, home-cooked breakfast coming from downstairs, something that made his mouth water and made him feel like he was actually part of a family, it was something he'd never smelled in his life. Even when he watched Nel most weekends he never really cooked breakfast for her, usually just throwing some cereal into a bowl and trying to leave out any sugary substances. He could even hear Yuzu giggling to herself, Karin arguing with a television and Kurosaki-san trying to engage in 'quality time' with his two daughters. It was nice to hear a home so full of life, to hear the sounds of a family all getting along and bonding, it was kind of a nostalgic feeling except he'd never experienced that before to feel nostalgic about it. One thing was for sure, the second he could afford it Nel would be moving in with him for good. He didn't want his little sister growing up like he had, he wanted her to have the kind of love the Kurosaki family had, that Ichigo had . . . and speaking of Ichigo . . .

His little, redheaded lover was currently curled up against him the most adorable way imaginable. His head lay directly over Grimmjow's heart, listening silently as he slept to every heartbeat, his breath ghosting over Grimmjow's bare chest and his eyelashes fluttering delicately against naked skin. Ichigo's right arm was lost underneath his lover's body, which left no doubt he'd be waking up with a dead arm, and his left arm was wrapped around his boyfriend's waist, his hand entwined with Grimmjow's healthy one. Their legs were completely entangled with each others, adding to the sense of intimacy, making it seem like they were but one being, and the sheets lay cool against their skin, shielding them from the waist down against the cold.

It was just so nice to wake up with a hot, living body against him. It was something real to cling to, something soft to make the harsh realities of his life easier to bear, and the fact that the body belonged to the man he loved more than anything in the world, it was just a reminder of how lucky he actually was. For the first time ever Grimmjow didn't feel alone. He didn't feel like a freak for his hair, like he was street scum for the way he talked or acted, he didn't feel like an idiot because everyone else seemed so much smarter. He felt loved, he felt like he was entangled with the body of an equal, he felt like maybe he mattered and maybe he could play a part in Ichigo's life, actually make a difference, and he felt comfort that he'd never once felt in the arms of Luppi. If it were Luppi he'd have not wasted any time in waking the bastard up so he could close the window that made the room so cold, but because it was Ichigo he felt obliged to let the little guy sleep, unable to wake him even if he wanted to. It didn't matter that the single bed was slightly too small to contain their bodies, or that he probably should check into work to see what progress Aizen had made, all that mattered was Ichigo . . .

He tensed slightly as Ichigo moved, scared that any movement on his part might wake the younger redhead, but with a slight moan Ichigo merely cuddled closer, yawned, and fell back asleep. It was kind of cute really, like he was watching Pantera doze off after eating a heavy meal, but even that didn't really come close to Ichigo. The kid was just too perfect.

He wrapped his unharmed around Ichigo and breathed deeply in the scent of his hair, smiling in memory of the night before. There was still a heady scent of sex and sweat in Ichigo's room, and it was just so hard to forget what had happened, not that he'd ever in a million years forget last night. Grimmjow still could barely believe it had happened! He'd been celibate a whole year, just waiting for Ichigo to be ready, and finally he had been. He was lucky Ichigo was a virgin and thus his endurance was pretty low, because with how starved Grimmjow was he knew he didn't last that long, in fact he'd barely finished by the time Ichigo had. Next time though he'd make it last a whole lot longer, that was for sure.

Not that it'd been bad at all. Hell, in fact it'd been pretty damned great! He'd remembered being driven to Kurosaki Clinic after getting his arm bust up by some punk-ass kid, then getting shot with some drugs by Kurosaki-san, then what seemed like moments later Ichigo came through the door totally wasted. It seemed like the old man had headed back to the party to clean things up, the two girls were fast asleep and there was Ichigo drunk as hell with Grimmjow high as a kite.

His first reaction was to start screaming abuse at Ichigo about how he could run off and kiss another man, then of course Ichigo had began screaming something about letting Luppi cling all over him, and he remembered vaguely it nearly coming to blows before Ichigo leapt on him and began making out. It'd been rather passionate, clumsy, and furious and Grimmjow remembered nearly ruining the kitchen as they fell from one piece of the room to another, knocking over pots, pans and dishes wherever they went. It wasn't until Ichigo had started undoing his belt and biting his ear that he'd lifted him up and headed straight for the bedroom. They'd barely made it to Ichigo's room before they began to make love for the first time. Of course being high on pain meds, with his left arm in a cast, Grimmjow had been clumsy and forgotten the lube, and Ichigo with his lack of experience and intoxicated state hadn't been very rhythmic and kept making little mistakes, but overall their enthusiasm and love for each made up for all of it. They'd of course passed out soon after, but they'd woke up not too long after for a second round, which had gone a hell of a lot better and had Ichigo screaming so loud Grimmjow had been terrified Yuzu or Karin would hear. Luckily no one had seemed to notice and the next morning they'd ventured downstairs to make a quick breakfast, before climbing back upstairs to eat it in bed, where Ichigo promptly passed out again, trying to get rid of his hangover. There'd had a quick third round before that though, and now Grimmjow found himself lying in bed quite late in the morning in his lover's arms.

Of course sometime around ten Kurosaki-san had bounded into the room screaming something about love, youth and teenage pregnancy, and proceeded to try and kick Ichigo awake. Grimmjow – of course – responded with a snarl and a devilish glare before Kurosaki-san took the hint, administered Grimmjow's medicine (although he was sure an injection shouldn't hurt so damned much!) and then went downstairs to make breakfast for his girls. Ichigo's phone had gone off sometime around eleven too, his little pal Renji calling with a message to pass on, followed by an upset sounding Rukia, an overly furious Shinji and the drawling voice of Chad. Grimmjow was starting to hope his lover woke up soon, because frankly his mind couldn't remember any more messages.

Luckily Ichigo had finally decided to wake up. A long yawn emitted from his mouth as he stretched languorously across the bed, before pulling himself up into a sitting position. Grimmjow followed suit, letting Ichigo lean against him, resting his head against his lover's shoulder as he said up, leaning back against the wall, his unfocused eyes trying to take everything in.

"Wha' time's it?" He slurred.

"Around twelve-fifteen." Grimmjow grunted, cricking his neck as he spoke, "We made breakfast, ate it in bed, fucked a bit, then you passed out. Your dad dropped by of course to give me my meds, then I took a shower but your damned family had used all the hot water! I hate cold showers. Yeah, then I came back to bed to make some calls, 'cause Aizen wants t' see me this afternoon, you'd think the bastard would give me a day off what with my left arm in a cast, but no, not him! Tch, fine, he at least better have gotten me a decent settlement. What good's a lawyer if he can't get you any money? Oh, yeah, and you're friends called a lot too. Left some messages."

Ichigo blinked a few times, trying to absorb all the information that had just been blasted at him. It was a lot to take in at the best of times, let alone when he felt like hell. His head was pounding relentlessly, his mouth felt like it'd been stuffed with cotton wool, and for some reason the room wouldn't stop spinning and his stomach wouldn't stop rolling. If this were what a hangover felt like then he'd never drink again! He was in desperate need of the shower too, and frankly he felt 'dirt' on his stomach that he really disliked the feeling of, and sore in places that really shouldn't be sore. The moment he regained some consciousness he was taking a hot bath.

"My friends called? What messages did they leave?"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes and huffed loudly. "Yeah, really romantic. No 'oh Grimm, last night was so wonderful' or 'thank you for the best night of my life, Grimmjow-sama', nah, just 'who the hell called?' Tch."

"Grimmjow-sama? Jeez, what the hell has dad given you? You have to be high if you think for a second I'd call your freakish ass that."

"Still, you could at least talk about what happened."

"Man, you sound like a complete woman, seriously." Ichigo groaned, "Last night was fantastic, you were great, I enjoyed it and I love you. Now can you just tell me who called? Seriously, my head aches like mad and my butt hurts to sit on. I'm not in any mood to sit around talking about stuff like this when I'm desperate for a hot bath and a decent meal. If you want to complain then go bitch to someone who cares."

Grimmjow held back a growl and took a deep breath, gazing across the room to one of the windows that overlooked a sunny sky. Great, well it seemed the kid was back to normal at least, although he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad. After all it was good that this hadn't changed their relationship at all, that they could still have their usual banter, inane argument and just be natural, only now there was the promise of hot sex at the end of the day too. It was just that he would have liked a bit more romance, maybe a 'good morning kiss' perhaps, and a deep hug, it would have been the normal thing for a couple to do. Then again, he wasn't dating a normal guy, he was dating Ichigo . . . Ichigo who was one of a kind, special, unique, Ichigo who was able to not let anything faze him, who was able to enjoy what they had without letting it affect what they already had. It was almost like the perfect relationship, a guy that he could be natural around and a guy that he could be great friends with, but with a promise of awesome sex and a family around him who accepted him too. It was like he had it all, and so if Ichigo wanted to bitch about then he could, he might not be a morning person but Grimmjow had no reason to doubt his love. He was more than willing to sacrifice one romantic moment if it meant a lifetime with Ichigo.

He gave a soft sigh before nuzzling his head against his lover's, burying himself into those fragrant, red locks. It was enough to make him never want to leave the bed, to spend all day with Ichigo in his arms, just talking about nothing and arguing about anything, just resting and relaxing as the day drifted on without them. Like it or not they were going to need to talk later on, because whether Grimmjow won the settlement or not he wanted Nel to move back in with him, he wanted his little sister around full time, and he wasn't sure how Ichigo would handle that. Plus there was the whole Renji and Luppi incident. Tch, Luppi clearly didn't mean anything to him, and considering how Ichigo had actually passed out during Renji's kiss he was pretty sure Renji didn't mean anything either, in fact Renji had to be pretty wasted himself not to notice his kissing partner dipping in and out of consciousness. Still, with the huge love-bite on Ichigo's neck he was sure Renji would know exactly who Ichigo belonged to, and if he still didn't get the message Grimmjow was already planning on kicking his ass when he next sure him anyway. That little punk! As far as Grimmjow was concerned he was just lucky they were at a party, because if there hadn't been so many witnesses he'd have broken that kids legs! So what if it might sound possessive? Ichigo was his, no one else's and certainly not Renji's!

After he took in a deep breath he finally answered Ichigo, "That friend o' yours, Chad, he just called to let you know that school's cancelled for today. Your dad kind of told me the same thing earlier on when he stormed in here, something about how that Ishida kid invited nearly your entire year group and a lot of them are all hung-over pretty bad . . . 'S only your year with the day off though, the older kids still have to go in." He stretched his back and yawned loudly, "Oh and Rukia called, she seemed pretty upset, like she was going to cry or something –"

"Huh, what about?"

"How the hell should I know? It's not like she'd tell me, is it?" He rolled his eyes despite the fact Ichigo wouldn't be able to see him, "Yeah, that Shinji pal of yours called too, said he's going to be in his office all day and that he's done something real stupid, so when you get a chance to grab Urahara and go see him –"

"He – he did? What did he do?"

"I don't know, but he did something."

Ichigo groaned to himself. This was just typical of Grimmjow, he could have just let his phone go onto the answer-phone service, but no, he just had to answer and then screw up the messages in the process. Sure it was nice to have a boyfriend considerate enough to make an effort, to pick up the phone to save Ichigo from waking up, but seriously, couldn't he at least write the messages down or something so he'd know who said what?

It probably wouldn't have bothered him so much usually but Shinji and Rukia were two of his closest friends, he wanted to know what was going on in their lives so he could fix it. He couldn't bear the thought they could be out there somewhere, suffering, whilst he was just lying in bed enjoying his moment with Grimmjow. It made him feel guilty, and it kind of ruined his moment with his lover . . . He wanted to bask in the afterglow, enjoy his time with Grimmjow, and instead he was feeling worried. It wasn't like Shinji to get into trouble and since when did Rukia get emotional enough to ask someone for help? That wasn't the only thing that was ruining his moment either . . . His muscles felt sore from the sex, it hurt to sit down thanks to the little preparation first time around, he was still in desperate need of a shower, and the fact that his father had to have barged into his room unannounced earlier would surely mean they'd be having a serious conversation later. He just wanted a long relaxing bath, maybe a nice dinner between him and Grimmjow, then a long night's sleep in his lover's arms. He didn't want to worry about what he said to his dad, or what had happened to Rukia, or what Shinji had done or even what classes he'd be missing . . . He just wanted to be with Grimmjow.

"You know," He murmured, cuddling closer to his lover, "You really suck at taking messages. You think next time you can let my answering service get it?"

"Whatever. Talk about ungrateful."

"What do I have to be grateful about? Thanks to you I have three friends who've called me, but only one actual coherent message, and – let's face it – you only remembered Chad's because Dad came in here and probably shouted it out a second time for the whole house to hear."

"Yeah, well what do I look like? A secretary?"

Grimmjow simply winced as Ichigo hit him hard on his right arm, just slightly below where the injection had been, before watching his lover crawl out of bed and search around his closet for some clothes.

He smiled as Ichigo stumbled across the room, moaning as he grabbed his head which no doubt still throbbed with the previous night's alcohol intake, and occasionally limping as he found himself aching in whole new places. Grimmjow couldn't believe that after just one night Ichigo would be so relaxed about his body, feeling natural and secure enough to let Grimmjow watch him as he wandered to and fro, even letting him stare rather lecherously at times as he licked his lips at the sight. True his boyfriend still blushed every time he caught him staring, but at least he wasn't trying to hide any more, it was nice to know that he felt so comfortable around him, that he could finally just be himself. He watched with interest as Ichigo pulled on a pair of jogging bottoms, smirking to himself as his lover was forced to bend over. He knew Ichigo wouldn't dress properly for a while, he'd no doubt be heading straight for the bathtub for a soak, but that was all the better as far as Grimmjow was concerned, it meant there was more body for him to stare at.

"Hey, you're other friend called," Grimmjow continued casually, pulling himself out of bed to sit on the edge, stretching his muscles as he went, "Renji I think. You know, that bastard who tried to take advantage of you whilst you couldn't defend yourself?"

"Oh give it a rest, will you?" Ichigo snapped, "I can take care of myself. I'll tell Kisuke about it later, let that perverted freak deal with him, and if it makes you feel better I'll be sure to soccer punch Renji in the jaw when I see him too, alright?"

"You better, although I hope you know I'm going to beat the shit out of him when I see him. I ain't kidding either, Ichigo. Anyway, the damned brat hadn't much to say, said something about a friend o' yours called Kira, and that he's got into trouble with silver or something . . . I don't know."

"What? 'Silver'? Oh! You don't mean Ichimaru Gin-Sensei, do you?"

"I don't know, probably. All I got was something about an affair or rape, or something, and that you need to get a hold of him right away cause that Kira fellow needs help."

"Huh? Yeah, but if something's going on with Kira-san then why does he want my help? I barely know the guy. It's Hinamori-san and Matsumoto-san he wants to turn to, I mean I barely ever speak to Kira."

"How the how should I know why he's rang ya? You speak to him, he's your friend, not mine."

"Whatever, I'll call him back later, I'm heading for the bath."

Grimmjow smiled to himself as he watched Ichigo saunter across the room. His boyfriend really was exceptionally beautiful, something ethereal and angelic, yet something natural and real. He was completely the opposite of Luppi in every way. He didn't have to hide behind clothes, make-up, contrived behaviour or even resort to speaking in a certain way, he could just be himself and he still exuded radiance from every pore. It was something impossible to imitate, something unique, and it made Grimmjow love Ichigo all the more, adoring how his lover was just completely natural. If it was up to him he'd never leave Ichigo's side even for a moment, the brat was just too damned perfect to let out of his sight.

"Hey, Ichigo," he said with a nod of his head, "can I join you?"

"Hell no! I'm sore enough as it is! Go screw yourself, Grimmjow."

Ichigo quickly slammed the door behind him as he stormed out from the bedroom, leaving Grimmjow laughing loudly to himself as his boyfriend went. Apparently it didn't matter what the kid went through physically, he was still emotionally as innocent as ever, and that blush and little temper tantrum was just plain adorable! Yeah, he loved Ichigo, and it was moment like these that reminded him why.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen  
by Rachael

It was completely traumatic. Honestly Yumichika couldn't say he'd ever met more of a stuck up bitch in all his years – all nineteen of them! By eleven o'clock this morning he'd wanted to murder his agent, he'd wanted to kick someone in the head – he'd wanted to call Ikkaku out of school and ride him until his frustrations faded… And it was because of that bastard photographer! His name was Charlotte Cuuhlhourne; he was someone new Mashiro-sama had bought in.

Not only was he the UGLIEST person Yumichika had ever seen, but he also seemed completely insane. He pranced around and talked about beauty! Beauty – with a nose like that! Bah!

Furthermore, Yumi himself found there was nothing wrong with dressing in a feminine style, he didn't mind transvestites, but that stupid horse-faced fool took it to the extreme! Imagine wearing all the tight fitted white – flares like THAT on pants – and the crop top! (If he wanted to see a man's midriff, he'd go and watch Ikkaku and Iba training!) Too much mascara, long seaweed hair – way too much lip-gloss! It wasn't just the way he looked when he was stationary; it was his whole demeanour. The instant he stepped into the studio, clapping and shaking his rump in such a hideous fashion! It was truly vile – he had to clench his eyes shut and pray breakfast had been eaten long ago enough not to make a ghastly reappearance…

And that wasn't the worst of it!

That bumbling bitch! He swanned around the studio, like he owned the fucking place! Gasping and gaping – like an ugly fish – telling people crap… 'Your hair is so darling – but you should curl it for the photos today, sweetie! – Oh my! You look nearly as stunning as me – let's get you in some shorts!' After a long argument in the dressing room with Rose-sama, he came out ready would work productively. He had his make-up and outfit done, takes one step onto the set to pose with the others, and Cuuhlhourne puts down his camera and says, 'I'm sorry; I can't take a photo of him'. Naturally at first he looked around, thinking 'How rude, I wonder who he's talking about'. Only to realize, horrified, that everyone was looking at him with shocked expressions. Rose-sama's jaw had dropped – and that ugly bastard was staring right at him.

"Me?"

What a witty response… He was sure his voice sounded about an inch tall.

"Yes, you, Yumichi-san, wasn't it?"

"It's Yumichika – Ayasegawa to you," he said stiffly, straightening up and glaring at him, "What seems to be the problem? Why won't you take my picture?"

"It's simple," Charlotte waved a hand out, placing it on his hip, tilting to the side, "I can only take photos of the beautiful – inside and out! Only those with pure hearts and good souls – like mine! A good heart marks the truly beautiful!"

"Cuuhlhourne-san, Ayasegawa-kun is an excellent model," one of the other photographers spoke up.

"On the contrary, when I look at him," Charlotte covered his face with his hand as if wounded, his voice tinted with irritating false tears, "I see a very troubled young man with an ugly heart! The sort of young man who only enjoys his superficial looks, judges everyone by them – who never felt sorry for breaking someone's heart! Oh, I'd even be willing to bet he left a lover for his best friend!"

Shit… was he a psychic of something? It totally wasn't as bad as that, depending on how you look at it. Bitch.

"You see? The ugliness is there in his face! That dark mushroom of hair! Such an arrogant expression – No, no, no! I simply cannot and will not photograph him! It would be a crime against beauty!"

This was where Yumichika lost his temper, his hands clenched into fists; he pointed one at him, "Your face is a crime against nature!"

The whole room went quiet. He could see a couple of his fellow model's biting their lips as if trying not to laugh. Rose-sama had his face in his hand.

"How dare you call me ugly? People who call another person ugly are truly the ugly ones!"

"I never used the word ugly! You're the one who just said it three times!"

"Me and my pure heart are beauty beyond compare – weren't you listening? So you are cruel, with bad hair and deaf… how very sad."

"At my nose isn't crooked to a 90 degree angle!"

"Oh it will be in a minute!"

"Oh I dare you!"

Under normal circumstances, if someone threatened to fight him, he'd laugh, roll his eyes, and make a witty remark to disable their confidence, before walking away. Right now, he was stepping up, squaring up to the larger male, completely ready to punch him in that ugly face!

"Excuse me – wait!" The stage director was attempting to stand between them, frantically attempting to calm down the situation, desperate for some kind of resolve. Which ended in a twenty minute break, Yumichika was so angry he went and sat on his dressing table, flicking through his phone. Legs crossed, eyebrow twitching every time he heard that moron's stupid horrible voice! It was ugly beyond compare; he kept describing everything in long sentences…

'This is a photo I had taken of myself last year, I think it carries an element of dazzling, sexual, erotic, scandalous, tremendous, shinning, shimmering, sparkling, acrobatic, chocolate covered, miracle, sweet, ultra-funky, dramatic, romantic, sadistic, exotic, athletic, don't you?"

Of all those words, and there were a lot of them… Yumichika wouldn't have used any of them. Perhaps it was hanging around with Ikkaku, who was a name of few words in most situations (excluding when he drank or when he was fighting), but using too many words… was such an ugly way to behave. Especially cramming in so many adjectives… especially as they were inappropriate considering what they were being attached too.

Most of the models were outside; frantically smoking as they tended to do when they had a moment of freedom. Yumichika was texting Ikkaku, when Shuhei came into the studio; he had a memo to deliver to Rose-sama, and looked a little weirded out by the sight of their new photographer prancing around the room. Unfortunately for him, he was noticed as much as the prancing ugly man.

"Oh my!" He rushed to Shuhei's side, circling him like a vulture, leaning in and attempting to master a look sported commonly by sweet young girls seducing a first love. "Why, hello, are you one of the models?"

Now it would be the height of foolishness to say Yumichika was jealous. But there are some occasions where it's a simple thing to feel jealous about an ex. He and Shuhei hadn't ended badly with 'I hate you's', and 'Bitch die', they'd ended quite rationally. 'We had a good run, but I'm graduating and going into a job' 'Well, now that you mention it, I was thinking the same thing', simple and clean-cut. Anyway, it was for these reasons that Yumi would feel a little possessive when it came to Shuhei. After all, he was his first… a little sentimental, but he couldn't have the man he lost his virginity to, getting hit on by someone so repulsive!

Cuuhlhourne was doing the most idiotic cliché thing! He'd dropped his pencil, and was fretting away, playing with his hair while Shuhei stupidly picked it up for him, unaware that his ass was being gazed upon in such a way!

"Excuse me," Yumichika spoke up, "Hi," he stepped in between them, smiling warmly at Shuhei, "You're here to see Rose-sama, right? Unlucky, he just went off with Hiyori-san," he was blocking the larger man behind him a little, placing a hand on his ex boyfriend's upper-arm, gently rubbing the skin, "You can probably find him in his office, Shu."

"Oh, erm… right." Hisagi went bright red; perhaps it was because he called him 'Shu', Yumichika's smile brightened (He wasn't loosing his touch!). "I'll go and look for him in his office, I owe ya," he reached out, going to touch his cheek; Shuhei seemed to catch himself doing so, probably out of habit, and instead playfully ruffled his hair.

Yumichika scowled, "Not that hair!"

At this point, as Shuhei left, he heard Charlotte Cuuhlhourne snigger, "Why get upset? It can't very well get much worse."

"What did you just say to me?"

"I was stating a fact of beauty… or a misuse of it anyway."

He laughed, turning to face him, "Your hair looks like a seaweed wig."

"SEAWEED?" he bellowed furiously, "My long black mane is reminiscent of the beauty of midnight! It's illustrious! And you – you'd dare compare it to SEAWEED?"

Yumichika smirked; folding his arms and giving him a rather arrogant smirk he normally saved for that crazy girl who lusted for his Ikkaku.

"Oh fine!" Cuuhlhourne protested, pointing at him firmly, his finger inches from Yumichika's nose, "If that's how you want to play – your hair looks like an ugly black toad stool, you skanky twit!"

"A toadstool, get real! It's something called 'style'; maybe when the doctor's cure your dementia you'll get it! And get those huge sausage fingers out of my face!" He slapped the hand aside, "You fugly witch!"

"How dare you touch my hand?"

Of all the things he had planned for his day, at no point did Yumichika expect to be slapped around the face by a transvestite! The last person, who hit him in the face, was Renji's mental father, who'd done it 'by accident'. He'd been waiting for the redhead in the Urahara shop, looking at his nails by one of the shelves. Urahara-san was on the other side, he pushed a box forwards a little too hard, and in his haste, it shot the box in front of it off the shelf and smacked Yumichika in the jaw. The shock lasted for about an hour…

Right now, his cheek was tingling in pain, his hands were shaking and he looked completely stunned.

"There's nothing beautiful about being horrible!" Cuuhlhourne was announcing, "Nothing! You're clearly a very insecure person, Yumichi-san! The way you threw yourself at that attractive young man earlier shows that you just can't handle anyone else getting attention. The pure are always loved!"

"It's YUMICHIKA!" he jerked his hand up to strike him. It wasn't a very structured move; in fact he missed because Cuuhlhourne saw it coming and jerked out of the way. However his hair didn't move quickly enough and Yumichika got a fistful of it, which he yanked hard.

"GET OFF ME!"

Cuuhlhourne swung forwards to punch him, just as Yumichika jerked away, stumbling in his heels before becoming stationary, and a clump of cosmic purple hair sticking to his fingernails.

The transvestite lost it around there; he let out an angry growl, a little like a bull, his large muscled arms in front of his body, screaming in fury as he ran at Yumichika. The force of his shove sent them out of one of the fire doors. It began as rather a girly fight, flailing arms and scratching nails, shouting curses and swearing. Then all of a sudden it changed; Cuuhlhourne came at him with terrifying force, aiming a hard punch for his lower rib cage. He hadn't meant to do it so quickly; he saw the punch and reacted. His hand shot down and diverted the punch swiftly into the wall. Cuuhlhourne howled in pain, and turned, now in full attack mode, extending his palm towards Yumichika's jaw. It made contact and nearly knocked him down the stairs; he gained his balance and leapt forwards, his leg extending to stamp down on his opponent's foot, raising his fist to cram against his jaw. Yumichika heard Cuuhlhourne's neck click, before he felt two fists clasped together bash down against the base of his neck. He stumbled, wincing as he felt the larger man strike him with another vicious backhand.

Yumichika was sure his body hit the wall with such force his face would be damaged, but he couldn't feel blood on his face so it couldn't be as bad as that. He spun around to face the other, ducking under the punch coming for his nose, and jerking his palms against his chest, sending the other into the wall, he lunged forwards, grabbing his arm and flipping him onto his back on the floor. His fist hung dangerously above his face as he straddled him.

An hour later as he sat, holding an ice pack to his cheek, Cuuhlhourne beside him, holding an ice pack in the same place in the first aid area; Yumichika wondered if he was a hypocrite for always lecturing Ikkaku about fighting. It was a part of himself he began denying a long time ago. The rough little boy who used to go to karate lessons and boxing club was only available in a few embarrassing photographs and videotapes (chasing after his brothers and, on few occasions, roaring at people (he was two, though the idea of it was still hideous!)). What was he to expect? His two older brothers were big guys… (They had a different father's; Yumichika's had been around when he was about three and disappeared again when he was thirteen). His brothers boxed in bars for extra cash and loved a good fight… The sort of family Ikkaku would simply adore. He wasn't like them… he was like his mother's side, his aunt, who had moved to Hong Kong a few years ago, had a son, Ruri'iro, who was potentially the image of Yumichika.

His first real modelling job had been when he was five-years-old, in a catalogue selling children's clothes, he and his cousin had been photographed together because they looked alike. However, to heighten the similarities, the photographer recommended they had the same hair colour (Yumi's being black with a tint of violet… and Ruri'iro's being azure), and despite his cousin's protesting, it was decided that Yumichika's would be more suitable for the both of them. Nowadays they never spoke, the occasional email with either himself or Ruri'iro Kujaku (now on the cover of most fashion magazines in Hong Kong) bragging about their recent flourish of success). But in his opinion, the whole thing had been blown revoltingly out of proportion; as children they were always quarrelling, Ruri'iro was always bitching at him for one thing or another; his burly brothers, his cruelty (which he had no right to comment on), his excelling at trivial things like kendo and boxing… most of all, Ruri'iro liked to bitch about Yumichika's eyes, he hated the colour. Yumichika could bitch back with the best of them at such a young age (though whether or not that should really be his claim to fame, he wasn't sure)… Anyway, because of the hair dye incident, he came up with the nickname Fuji Kujaku (which worked a treat, it drove him completely barmy!). But all had been Childs play, until he accidentally made reference to it last year whilst talking to a reporter.

"So, Ayasegawa-san, I hear you're related to the Hong Kong sensation, Ruri'iro Kujaku, the model known as the Azure Peacock, is that right?"

It slipped out like word vomit.

"Oh yes, we're cousins. Fuji Kujaku and I go way back."

It would have been a little harmless reference, if it hadn't caught on… the press kept using the nickname in nearly every reference to him. Which was infuriating in itself … but Ruri'iro never forgave him for it. Stupid bitch…

"Hey…"

Cuuhlhourne's words knocked him out of his nostalgia; Yumichika tilted his head to look at the now much calmer tranny.

"What is it?"

"Where'd you learn to hit like that?"

"Is that any of your business?"

"Do you realize how much concealer I'm going to need to buy?"

In all his days, he never thought he'd be where he was now. Ikkaku was sat on an expensive leather sofa, with a certain petite beauty at his side, holding an ice pack against his cheek.

It all began after he started going to school again.

He couldn't believe it, but he was at school, and had been for a week and a half – fuck, it did sound like something you'd say at an AA meeting… It was an infuriating fact, but here he was… at this damn building (missing illegal training sessions with Iba). Nearly a week after that party at Ishida's… Ikkaku had never seen Zaraki-sama angrier at him, than when he got that phone call. But for some strange reason, he didn't handle it like he was angry… he handled it, like maybe some crappy 'Let's talk about it' father would. It was totally scary.

"I've been going way too easy on you, Ikkaku! You never go to class – I got it out of Iba that you've been with him. Geez, do you want to be a delinquent? A real man doesn't neglect his studies, didn't I tell ya that?"

In his opinion, it sounded a little forced. He was glad that Zaraki-sama favoured him over the others, even when his behaviour was often worse; he let Ikkaku run training drills and take charge of the new recruits… But the very fact he was favoured, worked right back against his free spirits; he hated letting his Sensei down. He wanted to make him proud by excelling at fighting… So the fact that Zaraki-sama was disappointed enough in him skipping school all the time, to make up some crummy speech about it… well, it made him feel like shit. So for the last week and a half, he'd been attended Karakura High, a little frantically (he was on time and everything, often with his homework). Yumichika teased him, said he was turning into a little school lover; but if it meant he was proving himself to Zaraki-sama, he'd do anything!

And it was hard to be at school. People, like Renji and Ichigo, kept dropping stupid comments like, 'Ikkaku's here! Geez – report in from hell – there's a blizzard'… Even the teachers did it, two of them didn't bother reading his name out in the register, looked up, saw him, went pale and said, 'Madarame-kun? Are my eyes deceiving me?'… It was all very agitating. Classes were boring as hell on top of that. You keep getting told off for the dumbest things at school… you have to ask if you want to go take a piss! You have to stay in your assigned seat for a whole hour and ten minutes! Lunch is only an hour and ten minutes long… nobody takes you very seriously… and that damn girl was here all the time!

'Darling – darling! You're here!'

There was only so much he could take, especially when taking into account the fact that Renji pissed himself laughing every time she pranced towards them like some sort of demented, high ballerina.

And if none of that was bad enough, Ikkaku found himself sat in the principal's office… Not for bad behaviour – but for some sort of strange scheme… called the Tutor Program. Now unless they wanted him to show that wimps calling themselves a kendo team how to really use a sword… he couldn't see why they'd introduce him to such a thing in the first place!

"Now, Madarame-kun, do you know why you're here?"

"Not especially, sir."

The man looked down at him, the expression on his face really pissed him off. It was all… simpering? Would simpering be the right word? Yumichika referred to a girl as simpering once, and her face looked a lot like his right now.

"Well, as you're probably aware, your grades are… suffering, now, your guardian has assured me that it's due to your frequent absences. There is evidence of you excelling at your last school, where I believe your attendance was 100%?"

In all honestly, it was only 100% because he was rarely ill. Zaraki-sama had told him that a real man was never absent, and naturally, he'd believed it to its full extent. How couldn't he? He was 11 – if Zaraki-sama told him the sky was fucking orange, he'd tell people it was.

"Err, yeah."

"Now, as your principal, I'm not going to let a student with potential down. The board were considering your expulsion, but your guardian and I were adamant that you could remain here… if you're able to follow our conditions?"

This… didn't sound entirely good.

"So, how about it? Want to hear the conditions?"

"Err… yes… Yes please."

"Firstly, you are to join our school kendo team and work very hard towards the school achieving victory in the finals this year."

"Uh-huh." That wasn't a bad condition… but Yumichika wasn't going to like all the time he'd miss out on… training. The kendo team did a lot of training… and away matches.

"And secondly, you are to attend weekly sessions with a student tutor, we have elected for you."

Aw shit. Ishida… God, don't let it be Ishida! He clenched his hands together under the table, trying not too look too nervous. "Err… who is it?"

"Hold on, she'll be here in a moment."

'She'? Oh no – oh wait… That crazy woman, Mizuho Asano – she was Student Body President – she was always involved in something mental like this! Shit! If it was her, he didn't know what he'd do! She wasn't gonna let him go – he'd never pass!

The door opened and he spun around to see who it was; almost praying that he hadn't worked up a sweat or something… his racing heart eventually returning to normal as his eyes fell upon a very familiar form. Rukia Kuchiki, all 4'10 of her. Yumi had once described her as very beautiful; he could see where he was coming from, she had a delicate little shape, like a doll or something, and nice features… he once heard Ichigo's weirdo cousin refer to her as 'virginal' and 'pure', but that pervert was fucked up in the brain (originally Ikkaku just thought he meant Kuchiki-san looked clean or something).

"Ah, Kuchiki-san, thank-you for joining us," he stood up and offered her a chair, "You're familiar with Madarame-kun, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Ah, that was it. Kuchiki-san didn't like him at all; she was close with Renji so naturally she'd resent him and Yumichika a lot. He wouldn't resent her for it, she was loyal – that was never a bad quality in a person. If he recalled correctly, on the day Renji awkwardly hugged him before retreating to the bathroom, Rukia had shot him one of her glares and said, "Just because Renji has forgiven you, doesn't mean I have. You're the worst, Ikkaku Madarame."

"Of course, you're in the same home room class, correct? Well, I'm sure you two can work out a study pattern together? Madarame-kun, I leave you in Kuchiki-san's very capable hands. Good luck to the both of you."

The hardest thing about being friends with boys was, that on so many occasions, you needed to be the responsible one. You had to be the irritating one when your sensible head just knew it was the right time to say, "I think we should go to school tomorrow instead of sitting around drinking vodka in Hisagi-sempai's apartment – I mean, he doesn't even know we're doing this", or, "Renji, you've had one too many". Worse than that was how your friends look at you like you're the parent taking away a treasured toy or fun activity. Once, Renji had looked up at her, with blood-shot eyes, stinking of… God knows what Matsumoto-san had convinced him to buy… and said, "You used t' be fun, Rukia. You've changed!" Admittedly, her brother's influence put a lot of pressure on her… more so now than ever before; but she'd never been one to do stupid things. Drinking alcohol at fifteen was hardly something to call the police about, especially considering a bottle of some brightly coloured alcoho-pop in comparison to Renji's… tab, might be the better choice of word. She wasn't like the others in that respect, most of the time, it was her and Ichigo looking after everyone else. But she hadn't changed her principals, like Renji would often imply, her friend's leisure activities had just gotten a bit more daring.

She didn't enjoy being the one that worried all the time. By all means, she could be the stupid redhead who drank and sang all the time… But at the same time, their happiness was a blessing in itself. Nothing had been worse than being sat at Renji's side as he mumbled miserably into his hands, "I was never good enough for him"… or Ichigo's shaking arms around her shoulders as he admitted for the first time, "I-I think I'm in love with him – and it's scaring me so fucking bad!"

It wasn't a burden to balance their troubles on top of her own, but seeing them both happy gave her… what she assumed, was similar to motherly pride. But at the same time, she despised the idea of making them worry. Ichigo took everything so hard, he took all of the bad, hard things and carried it around on his shoulders; his mother's death, his father's loneliness, his sister's troubles, his own ambitions… Renji was similar that way.

So it seemed cruel to tell them, either of them, that at the end of term her brother intended to pull her out of Karakura High and have her privately tutored at home. He mentioned something about Finishing School when she was sixteen. After what happened at Uryu's, he fully intended to have her out of school by the following day… but she'd lied and told him she was enlisted in the Tutoring Program, and therefore couldn't leave until the end of term at best. The next day, being one of few to actually go to school, she'd joined the program; anything to keep her with her friends just a little while longer. She couldn't stand up to her brother. It would be like the wind howling at a mountain in attempt to make it bow; a worthless, fruitless effort.

All she could do was try and prolong the time she could spend here. Though, she had to admit, attempting to force knowledge into Ikkaku Madarame's head, was certainly not her idea of a good time.

"Hey, are you guys hanging out now?" Orihime asked brightly, swinging her school bag over her shoulder, almost dangerously hitting Uryu, who was putting away his sewing kit.

"I should be," Ichigo said, shrugging his shoulders, flicking his hair out of his eyes, "I've got time to kill."

"Not with Lover-Boy?" Renji taunted as he rummaged through his locker. It was lost likely he was trying to raise his spirits before he went to volunteer at the hospital again. Kisuke-san was holding him to it, his way of paying off his debt to Uryu's father for the state he'd left his house after the party.

Ichigo rolled his eyes; "He's seeing a client, if you must know. What about you, Chad? You doing anything tonight?"

"No. I'll hang out," the larger man said simply, closing his locker.

"I have to volunteer," Renji groaned, stretching his arms, "I can't believe this, it's been a week and a half! I was sure Kisuke would have dropped this by now! Yesterday an old lady tried to get me to sing to her when I gave her the meal."

"It was her birthday," Uryu cut in, "That sort of morale raising procedure is common place at the hospital."

She couldn't help but notice that Uryu and Renji were strangely awkward around each other. Neither of them gave the other any eye contact, and Renji went a sort of funny colour whenever the boy with glasses addressed him directly. If she wasn't so worried about what her brother had planned for her, she'd had asked him about it.

"Well… whatever," Renji suddenly straightened up, glaring across the corridor to two people heading down the corridor towards Ichimaru-Sensei's office. One of them was Ichimaru-Sensei himself, looking quite casual, jacket swaying behind him in his leisurely stride. Behind him was Kira-kun, carrying his teacher's books, and what appeared to be a cup of coffee. To anyone who didn't know the pair, you'd assume mean Ichimaru-Sensei was making poor Kira-kun carry his books for him. However, it was much more likely, from the pleased look on the blond's face, that he'd insisted to carry those books. It was sweet… she remembered what it was like to have a crush on an older man. Her slight pained smile passed her face for a second, before disappearing like the flash of a photo in time.

"I guess that means Izuru won't be joining you," Renji said loudly, raising his tone just to catch Kira-kun's eyes, before the slimmer male disappeared into the office, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Geez, man, what's gotten into you?" Ichigo retorted, "You've got it in for Kira lately, haven't you? I told you last week, you're paranoid, Renji."

"I do not! I'm not being paranoid, I'm frickin' worried about him." The redhead snapped back at him, "In fact, he shouldn't be alone with that fucking creep!" He slammed his locker door shut and began to make his way across the hall to the office.

Ichigo's arm shot out and grabbed him, hauling him back towards the lockers, "Dude, I think Kira would die of shame if you go in there, yelling out your delusions. Cut it out."

She glanced at them curiously for a moment as Ichigo dragged Renji off into a corner away from the others, rolling her eyes, their loud voices barely more than hissed whispers. Orihime obstructed her view, hands clasping onto hers, "What about you, Rukia? You want to hang out too?"

"Oh me? No, I have tutoring," she rolled her eyes, "Lucky me."

So here she was, sat beside Ikkaku Madarame at the study table, drawing out an awkward diagram of Chappy travelling thought space, as a vague explanation of the solar system.

"So, do you get it?" she said, crossing her arms now she'd finished colouring in the grey Chappy rabbits of Pluto. Taking one look at his face, she'd have to say he was more confused than he was originally.

"Err… no," he said after a moment's pause.

"I don't know how to simplify it any more."

"Well… maybe you could stop drawing rabbits?" He paled seeing her look, "Err – I mean… you could stop drawing… so many?"

"They give the diagram character."

"Look, I can't tell the difference between the Red Chappy's of Mercury and the Red Chappy's of Mars! You used the same red crayon!"

"Well… that's your problem."

"Geez, come on. I know you don't like me, but you can at least teach me properly! I know what this is about!" He bashed his big hand down on the table, "I've had enough of this! I don't need to take this from you! Yeah, I did wrong to Renji, you think I don't feel guilty every time I'm around him, o-or when I look at Yumichika? Renji's my best friend!"

"You sure treat your friends well," Rukia turned her head away from him. The frustration that had been building up inside her for nearly two weeks suddenly bubbled dangerously to explosion levels. She wanted to fight, and who was better to fight with than Ikkaku Madarame? "You should feel guilty! He let you off lightly and you know you didn't deserve it!"

Ikkaku stood up from his seat, "No offence, but me and Renji are men, we get on with things!"

Oh she'd heard that crap before: men who aren't afraid of challenges, men who rant about protection and not being afraid. It was infuriating and… deep down; it touched a nerve inside her, unlike any other…

A girl will always remember the first boy she had a crush on. Or the first boy she kissed… or something like that. But that wasn't the only reason she'd never forget him. Growing up Rukia was raised in a foster care home, missing a sister she scarcely remembered. Her best friends were a group of boys; Renji and her were as thick of thieves even at five. Whenever she went somewhere, she ran there, often racing, she could climb trees faster than any of the others; her only femininity came in her favouritism of skirts and dresses, though they were always ripped from climbing and running. If someone were picking on a smaller kid, Rukia would be the first to go and defend him, sometimes even getting into very one-sided fights over it. She wasn't a violent child; she just wouldn't stand for bullying. That was why she was originally befriended Hanataro. They knew each other from school, he was three years older than her, but he was small and skinny, very quiet and shy and allergic to every thing. The bigger boys were always picking on Hanataro Yamada. He was lovely, but the boys found him a little pathetic. She'd caught Renji giving him exasperated looks when the older boy trailed behind them on the playground, or fell down, exhausted after three girly push-ups.

*flashback*

Kaien Shiba worked in the foster home; he was younger than the other who worked there. He wore a wedding ring and tight fitted black t-shirts with jeans on his first day, he was in his late twenties when he started working at the care home, Rukia was nine years old. It was the first time her face went red over a guy. He was a good person; he was kind and good-natured. He never looked down on you, he treated everybody the same. When some of the older and more traditional care workers would say, 'Rukia-chan, you are not to go swimming with the boys. Go in the smaller pool with the other girls', Kaien would say, 'Hey, Rukia, race you to the diving board!'. He was a wonderful man. He had such a wide carefree smile and loud friendly mannerisms. A major contrast from his terrifying beautiful sister, and his brash broad-shouldered little brother. He used to drive her and Renji around in his big expensive red car from school and to McDonalds. He didn't call the police, or tell the old man who ran the orphanage when he caught Yama peeking in on his younger sister (though Rukia thought he'd totally deserved it). He'd had a wife, but she died a few years ago. When Renji asked him about his wedding ring and the photograph of the pretty dark haired woman on his desk, there was sadness in his eyes. Such a look made her want to put his arms around him and make him smile.

Renji could be such a little bastard teasing her about it. "Rukia, it's your favourite person," he'd whisper, making kissing noises into her ear. Frantically, she'd hit him into silence before Kaien spoke to them.

It was all innocent, he thought she was a sweet little kid, and being nine of ten, she'd wonder how the name Rukia Shiba sounded, telling herself that ten and twenty-five sounded bad… but twenty-one and thirty-six sounded liable.

Kaien Shiba was twenty-seven years old when he died.

It was during the adoption process, the six months it took for Byakuya to become her legal guardian. A man came to the foster home, he was in his forties; she remembered thinking he looked a lot like the man she'd been told to call 'Brother'. The older man stood in the playground for a few minutes, before approaching them, ruffling her hair, bending down and saying, "You're Rukia-chan, aren't you?"

Normally, a strange man touching her would have terrified her. But she and Renji stood, almost transfixed. She remembered nodding, unable to find the right words as she looked back at those green eyes. He looked… so familiar.

Kaien came out of his office and onto the playground, "Rukia, Renji, come on inside. Recess is over," he headed to them, offering the man a hand, "Can I help you?"

She'd wanted to stay and ask about the man, but Renji was tugging on her sleeve. They'd watched from the window as Kaien lead the man inside, and listened as the two of them reclined into the office.

It would only be later when she found out that the strange man on the playground was her father, Koga Kuchiki.

Koga Kuchiki married into the Kuchiki family, his wife passed away shortly after Rukia was born. He had little time for his children, she was later told by the maid in her room, when she asked about her father. They also said that he'd loved his wife a lot, but there was always a rift between them. Koga Kuchiki left the Kuchiki family, taking his daughters, Hisana, and baby Rukia with him. He later abandoned them and two years later Hisana Kuchiki died in hospital from an illness that had plagued her since early childhood. It was rumoured that Koga Kuchiki had a mistress and he abandoned his family to be with her; though as far as Rukia was aware, no such mistress attended her father's funeral two years ago when he died in prison.

He came to the orphanage that day with Rukia's birth certificate, explaining he was her father and he wanted to take her into his care. His motives for this was never explained, but Kaien remained adamant that after her sister's death, Hisana made it clear that Byakuya, her brother, was to become Rukia's legal guardian. If Koga had a problem, he was to discuss it with his son. Rukia remembered watching the man leave angrily, slamming the door behind him. She watched from the window as he remained on the playground, looking up at the building. He looked… sort of lonely; she'd pitied him for a moment… just a moment.

She was told that before he was married, her brother Byakuya had been a fiery young man. He'd inherited a passion and a temper from his father. Their father had been a clever and impulsive man; he wouldn't take no for an answer. Later that night he broke into the foster home, not intending to leave without Rukia. He'd noticed that the kid who lived on the second floor had his window open at night; that was how he broke in. He crept up into the house, knowing where her room was from the colourful diagram set up on the bottom floor.

She remembered waking up when she felt someone in her room, thinking it was Renji, who was always coming into her room at night when he couldn't sleep; she sat up in bed, and gone to throw one of her slippers at him. Rukia couldn't remember a time where her blood had ran more cold than it did that night as she saw the big shadowy figure by her wardrobe. Koga had been stuffing her things into her school bag. It had been such a compelling feeling she was too afraid even too scream. Her hands went over her mouth and she drew back in fright.

"Don't be scared, Rukia," he whispered in a low voice, "I'm just getting your things. We're going home."

In the back of her mind, she kept thinking, 'God, please don't let Renji come in – please let him sleep well tonight'. Her heart almost stopped when she heard her bedroom door open, followed by a tired groan of, "Rukia, you up?"

He froze as he saw the man in her room, and instantly turned his head to the corridor to scream. She did scream when the man's big hand shot out and clamped over Renji's mouth. He knocked him into the wall and dropped him to the floor as though he was silencing a rag doll rather than a ten-year-old boy.

"Renji!"

She had gone to rush to him, when she felt the man seize her by the back of her nightshirt. His face close to hers as he hissed, "Now you be quiet, Rukia. You wouldn't want to wake any of the others, would you? We're going now, sweetheart."

She remembered closing her eyes, just because she was scared of looking at his, so bright and precise, so unnerving. She remembered being too afraid to cry properly, merely whimpering soundlessly into her hand. He took her other hand and pulled her along after him as he rushed down the stairs, her feet stumbling as he picked up his speed. They were at the front door when the office door opened, and she saw Kaien Shiba for the last time.

"Please, Mr Kuchiki, let her go."

"Get out of my way!" He'd taken something out of his jacket, but she couldn't see what it was from this angle.

"Listen, you can't do this."

"You stay out of our business. She's my daughter."

"You're scaring her," he raised his hands up, "If you do this, your son won't allow you to see her at all. There are other options." He was looking at the man, but his eyes kept jumping to Rukia, trying to reassure her, trying to stop her from crying.

The man let go of her hand, and for a second, she thought Kaien had persuaded him. She was so relieved, he'd calmed him down, she could run to his arms and let him calm her down and make everything right.

"I said move!" Koga Kuchiki had produced a gun from the pocket of his jacket, and shot Kaien three times in the chest. It all happened so fast it took her a moment to even scream. She heard the shots, she saw the blood, and she saw Kaien fall and then she saw the gun. God, she'd screamed then, she'd cried and rushed to him, clinging his head to her chest and screamed. She was eleven years old; she'd never felt more helpless.

Koga Kuchiki tried to jerk her to her feet, but she wouldn't let go of him. She paid no attention to the sirens outside, the shouts of policemen. Kaien had called the police before leaving the office; he'd heard Renji hit the floor. All of that she was told later.

A brave man died in her arms that night.

Her and Renji attended the funeral; he had his arm around her shoulders, the man who owned the children's home stayed at their side. She remembered feeling completely numb. Her brother didn't have time to console her; he was too busy trying to smooth over his father's crime. He made peace with the Shiba family; he made sure his father was locked up. He blamed Rukia for the scandal, she was sure he did. At Kaien's funeral, she remembered crying into Renji's shoulder, she remembered how her legs trembled. They put flowers on the grave he shared with his wife. Rukia remembered looking across at Kaien's family, his tall and beautiful sister so stiff and grim, her shaking hand on her sobbing little brother's shoulder. Everything felt dark, like the entire colour had been sapped from the world.

A lonely day…

*end flashback*

"That's a load of rubbish!" Rukia snarled angrily at Ikkaku, "Just because Renji says he's over it, doesn't mean you can tell he's lying!"

"Oh – just stop it. It's got nothing to do with you!"

Rukia pushed him, "Don't tell me what to do!"

"Hey!" He put his arms up in front of him, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

That was when she broke down. Her brother's pressure, his words, "I'm taking you out of that school. Those impudent boys you call your friends are unfitting company for a Kuchiki." It had terrified her, more than anything had in such a long time. God, she'd wanted to tell somebody. She'd wanted to hear someone, Renji… Ichigo… someone to tell her it could be worked out, someone to say, "He'll change his mind. We'll fix this, Rukia."

Ichigo was finally happy. Renji was always… on the go. Last week she'd rung Hanataro, she'd always been able to talk to him. Hanataro who was so gentle and so unwaveringly devoted, but even he had been busy, he was laughing, happy, in the middle of cooking with his flatmates he'd said. She couldn't mess him around when he was happy. It was such a damn lonely feeling. It almost made her want too… break down.

That was where it happened… Rukia Kuchiki burst into tears in front of Ikkaku Madarame, crying like a little girl with her hands over her face. She could imagine he was looking horrified and stunned. After a moment, he reached down to touch her shoulders.

"Shit – shit… are you…? God – I'm sorry!"

After a little while, as she sat down on the sofa, wiping her eyes on a handkerchief he'd produced from his jacket. It was wisteria, and smelt like lavender, leading to her suspicions that it belonged to Yumichika. He was trying to be a gentleman, his arm stiffly around her shoulders. She told him; he was the first person she told, barely able to believe herself as the words left her lips. "M-My brother's pulling me out of high school at the end of term."

He looked down, a little concerned, "Have you… talked to Renji? Or Ichigo, you guys are close right?"

"I haven't told anyone," Rukia mumbled into her hands, wiping her face, "I can't stand up to my brother… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you."

Ikkaku shook his head, removing his arm, "It's nothing. You're upset… I mean, you haven't told anyone? Why can't you just tell your brother you're happy at this school? I mean, he's got to have been young once, right?"

Rukia shook her head timidly, "He's adamant about it. He picked me up after Uryu's party… he said he was taking me out of school the next day, but I lied and said I was in this tutoring programme."

"He's forcing you to do something you don't want too though, right? He's making you drop out of Karakura High? That hardly seems fair, does it? Rukia, he's your brother, I'm sure he'd listen if you explained it."

She tensed as she heard footsteps heading towards the study, her brother stepped inside; distaste instantly crossing his face as his eyes settled on Ikkaku.

"Hello, brother. How was your day?" Rukia asked meekly, "This is Madarame-san, I'm tutoring him for extra credit."

"Good evening, Rukia. My day was productive. I wish you luck with your studies," he turned to walk out of the room.

Ikkaku instinctively noticed how he didn't once look at his sister, but his lip curled slightly at Ikkaku's scruffy sleeves and half unbuttoned shirt. This guy pissed him off; he was one of those… snob types. He was clearly insensitive to the needs of his sister; he cast a glance back at Rukia, who was looking at her hands. She was so respectful of him, more like a servant to her master than a sister should be to her brother. It pissed him off really bad!

"Hey, Mr Kuchiki," he stood up, catching the door before the older man could close it, "I've got something to say to you."

Rukia had leapt up and grabbed onto the back of his shirt. Recoiling only when her brother turned and looked Ikkaku up and down with obvious disgust on his face, his grey eyes settling on the grubby hand on the paintwork of his white door. He looked like he was thinking about sending the butler or someone up to clean it after his sister's pupil left.

"Oh, do you?"

"Yeah, I think you should have a bit more respect for your sister. I mean –"

"I believe, Madarame-san, our family is none of your business."

The way he spoke was like he was a little stunned someone like Ikkaku would even try speaking to him. Everything about this man was getting on his last nerve. He took another step towards him, "I don't care. She doesn't want to leave Karakura High; all her friends are there. Can't you cut her some slack? She's not a bad kid –"

"Need I remind you; it's none of your business. I believe I am responsible for creating the best opportunities for my sister. Rukia will see I'm doing what's best for her in the end." He sounded irritated.

Ikkaku shook his head, "You're being cruel. You know full well she won't argue with you!"

"Do you really think I'd ever require the opinion of something like you?"

Now that was it!

"Wait just a minute!" He reached out and grabbed the older man by the shirt, yanking him towards him. Or he would, if a pale hand hadn't shot out seconds after he made contact – and caught him across the face, smacking him with such force he fell back and onto the floor. He'd ripped the older man's shirt as he fell, too stunned to really acknowledge he'd been struck.

Shit!

Ikkaku had shakily got to his feet, "Why you -!"

"Stop it," Rukia stood in front of him, her hands gripping his shoulders. She turned to her brother, saying something very quickly and very hurriedly. He didn't catch what it was, he was suddenly aware that his mouth was stinging. His tooth had come loose… shit… it couldn't be from that nasty swipe… It was probably from the weekend, he picked a fight with some nasty gang boss, beaten him to a frickin' pulp too! Ouch… he spat the tooth into his hand, his mouth dripping with blood.

"Give a number to Maria," Byakuya Kuchiki snapped angrily, "Have someone responsible for him come and collect him."

Leading to where he was, sat on a plush sofa beside Rukia Kuchiki, holding something cold to his cheek. It was bruised up… that guy could be one hell of a kung-fu master… which made him wonder if the other had any professional training. He winced to himself, "Shit… I'm sorry," he mumbled after a few moments.

"It's fine," she admitted.

"No, I probably just made things worse for you," he groaned, moving away from the ice-cold bag against his mouth.

"At least you had the guts to try. Thank-you," Rukia smiled at him very gently, wincing as she looked up, "Oh, by the way, Maria said to tell you that a… Kenpachi Zaraki is coming to get you."

Okay… now he was in trouble.

He never thought a seemingly dull morning could end like this. Luppi glanced at the ticking clock on the high wall above the door of his office. Wow, only 11:10 am. He hadn't wanted to come in this morning; who'd want too, in general? Luppi hated working from seven – nobody was here! Ulquiorra was bad company too, he went upstairs to Aizen-sama's office, lording it up over everyone and organising events and cases… like he was so important.

Not only that, but the only person able to, in reasonability, cover for him was Szayel, who'd probably rather burn in hell. Luppi found the whole Szayel thing both something irritating and something to fear. Sure, Luppi probably shouldn't have slept with Nnoitra, and ruined his and Szayel's three year relationship… but that was ages ago! Geez – how long could you hold a grudge? In all seriousness, it was the height of stupidity! But still… he didn't dare confront the pink haired man about it. It would be utter madness to demand forgiveness. Szayel could do voodoo, it was a well-known fact. He'd heard the rumours. He'd suffered it. Two months after he slept with Nnoitra, he started pissing blood – which Szayel mysteriously knew about – and twenty minutes after Nnoitra told him he'd cheated on him, he fell down some stairs and broke his ankle! If that wasn't undeniable evidence, he didn't know what was! For these reasons, Luppi would bite his tongue and bear it in silence. Szayel only did petty things anway, like forget Luppi needed a paycheque like everyone else, or holding the door for others, but closing it so it bruised three of Luppi's toes…

No, no… this morning had been beautifully good! It began at 8; he'd found a man skulking around in the records room, browsing through the archives. Well, it had come up on the sensors, and he'd gone to check it out, rather begrudgingly. He checked the pass submitted for entrance, and peculiarly, it said that Ichimaru Gin was inside. Which just couldn't be the case… Gin-san would, as he always did on his visits, go and sit in Aizen-sama's office or bother whoever was on duty.

In fact, he'd half expected a prank to blow up in his face the instant he entered… But no, he walked into the archives and found an unusual looking man with short blonde hair just rummaging through important documents.

Well being the forgetful type, he couldn't do what Ulquiorra told him to do in the off chance of an intruder in Arrancar, browsing through private things (pick up his walkie-talkie and call someone else for help), as he'd forgotten his walkie-talkie... So the next best thing was in order – he pretended he had a gun!

Shinji had waited a week before he took Gin-san's rather subtle hint… he snuck into the building, like a rattlesnake – like a mole! He got into the Arrancar archives without too much difficulty; he was planning on finding something nasty – something perhaps… illegal, that Sosuke Aizen was up to his teeth in… or something – anything really, that would give him an edge. Aizen would regret what he did… Nobody called Shinji Hirako a whore!

His plan was going perfectly… until some strange androgynous being run towards him, yelling something about being in possession of a gun. It as aggravating – not only had he discovered a file titled: VIZARD – but he was just downloading a file onto his Blackberry, titled 'X'. He'd wasted nearly twenty minutes breaking the security lock; a lock that only fuelled his suspicions that it was something… illegal.

Victory had been his! Or it would have been… No, he was pinned against the wall by what he guessed was a boy, who was holding his arms painfully behind his back, still threatening to have a gun for whatever demented reason.

It had been love at first sight! He'd had him pinned to the wall in such a compromising position!

"I don't care if you have a gun! Fucks sake – get off me!" Shinji protested furiously, turning his head towards him, "I'll sue!"

"Yeah? Well, I'm a lawyer! So fuck you!"

"What the – just get off, are you deaf?"

"I'll ask the questions here! At Arrancar, we don't take kindly to people snooping!"

"I wasn't snooping! I have a pass!"

"A pass belonging to Ichimaru Gin. You don't look at all like him."

"Listen t' me, ya strange little man!"

"Didn't you hear me? I have a gun! I could shoot you!"

"That's illegal!"

Shinji jerked his head back, smacking the feminine man in the jaw and turning to face him, pointing accusingly, "See! I knew ya didn't have a gun!"

Luppi clung to his jaw aching… not the worst he'd had… but owwey! He rubbed it hard, then paled as the other pointed out his… obvious lack of gun. When he used to be friendly with Nnoitra, he'd told him once… he said, 'Luppi, you look like a fucking woman. If anyone threatens ya, pretend you have a gun.'

"I can still report you!" he said coldly. "There's a camera in here… somewhere. You can get locked up for trespassing and stealing," he gestured with his head towards the Blackberry, approximately 76% downloaded.

Okay… now his hands were tied. He knew Ulquiorra-san would be in this morning; as whenever Vizard had some sort of interaction with Arrancar, it was always that guy they sent. If it was for his people skills, they'd really fucked that up. He'd never met anyone who was so void of… everything! If it had been Ulquiorra confronting him in the archives room, he probably could have left, Ulquiorra constructively negotiating Shinji out of anything he'd taken… but this guy was different. He was immature and crazy. He had pink nail polish on, a pixie-cut and very tight-fitted pants… also what appeared to be, high heels. Was this like one of those times, where you had to flatter your way out of a situation?

"Hold on… ya don't have to report me."

Luppi's eyes narrowed, "I don't? Err… yes, yes I do."

"No… you see… I had a reason for coming here."

"And what was that?"

"You're my first love."

The instant he said it, he regretted it. Geez – why was that always his first choice?! What in the name of hell did he say that for? Nobody was going to believe it! He looked up at the smaller man, expecting to see a sarcastic expression. But no… he had his hand over his mouth.

"I erm… I can't stop thinkin' about ya… since I first saw ya. We passed in the street, yer beautiful." He let out a few cheesy lines, praying it would be enough to earn him some safety, some method of a penniless escape.

Luppi took a step forward, "You do?"

"Yes," he said firmly, praying it didn't sound like a lie.

"W-Wait! I can't get involved so fast! I need to test – what month were you born in?"

"July – " He didn't get to finish his sentence, because at that moment the other man threw himself at him, kissing him hungrily, pushing both of them back against the archives folder. Shinji didn't know what the hell that was about… nor did he particularly like the way the other was wearing cherry flavoured lip-gloss… but it would be fools game to push him away now.

Luppi pulled back, panting against his lips, "I read in my horoscope today that I'd meet a handsome stranger born in July! That must be you! You're handsome if you close your mouth!"

That was… mighty offensive. When he was a kid he bashed his mouth against a door and his teeth grew in crooked… they were fixed with braces when he was a teenager, but they did give him a very… 'Why so serious' look.

"Err, thanks."

He was about to pull away, when the smaller man pushed him onto his back on the door, straddling his hips, "We should fuck," he leant in, sucking down on Shinji's ear. This was getting creepy… he didn't much want to sleep with this… odd man, he thought about voicing this with some watered down excuse, until he felt the soft pressure of teeth against a particular spot on his neck. Shinji let out a shuddered moan, his hands automatically rising up to take the other man's hips… one thought flashed through his mind… Why the hell not?

"What's your name?" Luppi purred, reaching down to rub between his legs, fingers fumbling against his belt buckle, "I'm Luppi Trepadora."

His name was NOT a good thing to give away. "Ichigo Kurosaki." He'd already said, half wondering why the hell he had? Sure he'd been pissed at Ichigo for ignoring his calls… but he'd just given his name to a crazy man. Oh well, not much he could do about it now. Shinji raised a hand and smacked down against the petite backside above him; inwardly wincing at how it almost felt like he was getting off with a semi-pubescent girl… If it got him out of the shit… it would be worth it.

"H-Hey, Luppi," he murmured, rubbing his hands up and down his sides, "Luppi, after this… delete the tape of me in here, please? Or just remove it… ya can keep it… for later?" he laced the word against his ear seductively.

"Deal," the other mumbled, half way through unbuttoning his own shirt, "Of course I will, Ichigo."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen  
by Rob

He should have felt angry.

He knew that he was entitled to anger, or at the very least a mild annoyance, for what right had that child to confront him in such a manner? Madarame-san was nothing more than a hoodlum child, cast away by his parents into the home of Zaraki-sensei in the hopes of reforming him. He was crude, coarse and obviously not the least bit intelligent if he was in need of tutoring, he even spoke as if he were nothing more than a common street thug. A boy like that had no right to confront a man, and not just any man but a Kuchiki. Byakuya had more money than that boy could hope to save in an entire lifetime, he also had fine breeding and an excellent upbringing, and he had studied in universities that the boy would not even be able to say, let alone spell the names of. The distance between them was vast, extreme, and it could never hope to be reached. It was like the baboon reaching in the waters to touch its own reflection, like the crab gazing at the moon in hopes of walking its surface; it was like the common animal seeking to achieve some unobtainable ideal. Madarame-san was that common animal, and no matter how hard he tried he would never be anything remotely equal to Byakuya, and he had no right to even try to force supremacy over his clear superior. Madarame-san had no right to try to lay a hand on him.

It was strange to Byakuya, but despite the grave offence committed against his person, and in his very home no less, he did not feel the rage appropriate to deed that had taken place. Instead all he felt was a sense of emptiness, a feeling of what could be described as hopelessness and despair. It was a feeling inspired by several factors, the first being Madarame-san's words and the second by his current environment. It was also a feeling exasperated by the fact it was beneath him to feel this way. He was a great man, a man who should feel grateful for his blessings or blessed by his surroundings, and yet all he could feel was this . . . pain.

What was it that Madarame-san had said? Was it that Rukia wished to attend that school, that she was too afraid to stand up and question Byakuya? It certainly had been something to that effect, but what of it? The words themselves meant little to Byakuya. He loved his sister dearly and she was all he had left in the world; his wife, sister and father had all died many years ago, and if he were to lose Rukia he would no doubt lose his very reason for existence. He had his work, and they had their grandfather, but Rukia was the very thing that gave his life meaning nowadays. His friends had long since left him or created new lives of their own, lives that had no place for him, and the few friends he had left there was a sharp and painful distance between them, separating him from them like the seas between land. There was no one left in his life to make it worthwhile, and certainly no one left to talk to who could hope to understand him. Gin was too preoccupied with his new love interest, Yoruichi-san seemed to have forgotten his existence at the best of times, and Ukitake-san had problems of his own, serious problems as well as a family to focus upon. The truth of the matter was that Byakuya had spent so many years consumed with work that he had ostracised the few friends that he had, and in the process lost so many without putting in the effort to gain new ones. All he had in life was Rukia. Rukia who would hang on his every word, who would listen to him with awe, who aspired to be like him in every way. Rukia who loved him unconditionally, who desperately tried to live up to his expectations and who sought to prove herself to him. Perhaps he could have spent more time with Gin, Yoruichi and Ukitake, or maybe made new friends, and there was still time to rekindle his friendships . . . but Rukia had – for better or worse – became his entire world, and he could not bear to give her up.

It may have been foolish, and his grandfather would certainly be disappointed were he ever to admit it, but it felt as if his friendships with others came at the expense of his relationship with his sister. There was a part of him scared that time spent with his friends was time wasted, for it was time not spent with Rukia. It created a distance between them, surely, and the more distance whether it was geographically or time was more distance between them, more chance of losing her. He had lost his wife, he had lost Hisana, and he had lost his father. He could not bear to lose Rukia too, and experience had taught him well that the things he loved were often the things that were destroyed. What meaning would he life have without her? He'd be alone. He would have no companion, no one to talk to or share time with, and no one to love and to protect. Without Rukia he would be entirely alone.

It was no wonder he wanted the best for her. He wanted her to be strong, powerful, a shining example of what it meant to be a Kuchiki. Then she would be grateful to him and share her life with him, he would not have to fear the isolation most Kuchiki's were cursed with, but more than that he would be fulfilling a purpose. It was his reason for being to make her the best she could be, and protect her in the process; it gave his life a meaning that it would otherwise lack. All he had was work, but Rukia gave him something else, something more than that. He would do everything he could for her, and if that meant removing her from that awful school so she could receive a real education, so she could be free from the influence of those hoodlums, so she could be closer to Byakuya . . . then so be it. How dare Madarame-san question him? He didn't understand. No one could understand, especially not street scum like that pathetic little boy.

Yes, he should have felt anger, but instead all he felt was empty. He felt – for once in his life – a sense of self-doubt, because all he wanted was the very best for Rukia, and now he had the cruel, nagging doubt that what he was doing wasn't perhaps the very best option. Was he truly hurting her by taking her out of school? Would she truly miss her friends and companions? He would still allow her to see the well bred few, and no doubt she would see Renji, the idiot boy who occasionally helped out at his office and seemed to worship Byakuya like a god. She would also make new friends, meet new people, but would that really be the best for her? He longed for a way to know what path was the right one to take, but the life of a Kuchiki was a lonely one, and there was no one to help him, no one to guide him along the right way. It made him wonder how Zaraki-sensei was able to raise a whole school of boys; how he could possibly cope feeling this way not just for one person but for dozens, and then Byakuya regained his senses. It did not matter how Zaraki-sensei coped. That man was a filthy commoner and nothing more.

Byakuya drew in a deep silent breath and looked around his office. It was, truthfully, the other reason why he had found himself feeling rather indifferent to Madarame-san's actions, as opposed to angry.

His home office did nothing but seem to symbolise and externalise his inner emotions and turmoil, making a statement to the world he did not wish to make. It spoke of loneliness, despair and a sterile existence free from hope. It also served as a permanent reminder of how alone he truly was, of how his whole identity was tied to his work and his family. He was not an individual, he was not Byakuya, he was merely a Kuchiki, a man with no real personality or sense of self, and is office proved that. There were no photos, no posters and no sparks of colour or decoration, not even one plant to lighten the mood or atmosphere. No, instead there were cold, white walls with a large light overhead, encased in a crystal shade, and the only other source of light came from the large window that lacked any blinds, shades or curtains, and simply overlooked the Kuchiki Manor gardens. The floor was bare floorboard, polished to make the mahogany look almost unnaturally clean, and the one real piece of furniture in the room was a large glass desk that featured a state of the art computer. There were, of course, filing cabinets along the left wall and a post-it board on the right, but that was the extent of items his office had to offer. It was a dead space used solely for work, nothing more or less, and each time Byakuya sat in his chair he always felt the same coldness wash over him. It was a room without life.

He had truthfully expected a quiet evening typing up some reports sent from the main office, followed by some light filing before retiring to bed. He would be sure to send an email to Ukitake-san later to ask after his health, pleased to know his friend was recovering quite well, and he would be sure to send a voice-message to Gin to ask to see him within the week to catch-up. That would be the full extent of his personal time and socialising for the day. It was for that reason he was most surprised to find his evening disturbed by an intruder. Not least because security should have escorted the intruder off his premises once Madarame-san had been collected, but because what reason could a brute of a man like Zaraki possibly want with the likes of a Kuchiki?

Byakuya barely looked up from his computer screen as Zaraki entered his office, and upon ascertaining his intruder's identity went immediately back to work, ignoring the way the door slammed a little too loudly for his tastes.

Zaraki looked positively furious. His hair was how it had been during Yoruichi's party, pulled into an array of spikes with what appeared to be carefully placed bells upon the end, the only explanation for which was perhaps he used them in sparring to teach his pupils the art of listening to one's opponent. His clothes were no different to usual either. Today it seemed he had opted to compose part of his outfit with cheap, old jeans that were torn in places and covered in stains, some of which appeared to be blood. How common. Could this man not afford anything better? Did he really think that just because they clung perfectly to his muscles, emphasised all the right places, and drew attention to all the right areas, that he could get away with it? Then there was also the way he wore a sleeveless, black shirt but allowed it to stay open to reveal his chest. It looked so ridiculous, so promiscuous, and yet Byakuya could not help but let his eyes travel the expanse of skin. Zaraki was perfectly tanned all over, his chest marred with scars that added to his masculine appeal, and his abs and pectorals almost chiselled solid. He looked so firm, strong and powerful. He'd somehow managed to take a common, plain looking attire and transform his body from that of street scum into a sex symbol. No, that was ridiculous. This man was a violent, disgusting teacher of hooligan children, whose grasp of Japanese was only a small measure better than Gin's. It didn't matter how physically attractive he may be, he was still a worthless creature not deserving of Byakuya's time, and he would not lower himself for a second to entertain this monster of a man for a second longer than need be.

Byakuya collected himself with a deep breath and crossed his legs in a manner that he hoped seemed to be elegant and self-assured. He didn't want to admit the gesture was done in order to hide his arousal, because what man could possibly be aroused by the likes of Zaraki? The man was a brute, snarling and sneering as he stormed into Byakuya's office without an ounce of respect or etiquette. No, Byakuya did not – nor would not – find him attractive, even if his body was everything a man or woman could possibly ask for . . . besides looks weren't everything. What could Zaraki offer in the way of intelligence, manners or empathy? Nothing. It was best not to even consider what it could mean to be with a man like that.

"Is there something you wanted, Zaraki-Sensei?" Byakuya asked coldly, "I ask only because something must be terribly important for you to interrupt a man in his private office, particularly without announcing your presence first."

The glare he shot to Zaraki would have felled a lesser man, sent them scurrying away in shame at having broken the correct protocol and procedures in speaking to a man that belonged to a much higher station. Abarai-kun would have stumbled his words and apologised quickly, Rukia would have bowed and begged for forgiveness, and even the likes of Gin would have said a quick word of apology before getting to the point. This man was different. Byakuya's icy words of indifference did not shock him, his implicit accusation was lost on him, and his bitter stare did not scare him. All in all it seemed Byakuya had no effect on Zaraki at all, and that in itself was a great cause for offence.

"If you are lost I shall call for Maria on the intercom. She will show you to your pupil. I trust that you will deal with him accordingly, Zaraki-Sensei?"

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Kuchiki?"

Byakuya dared a glance up to Zaraki and caught the sheer rage in his expression. The older man had often looked angry in the rare few times they had met in person, but never had he looked so murderous. The scars on his face seemed taut and tense, pulled together as his eyes narrowed dangerously, his mouth curled into a sneer. It was worrying, but Byakuya could handle any matters. He would not allow this man to harass him. Instead he kept an impassive face and returned to the spreadsheet on his computer, focussing his attentions on last year's accounts.

It seemed that this had been the wrong response, because at once his computer screen had been forcefully grabbed and spun around, before a large and calloused hand jabbed the power button, turning the screen off into darkness. Byakuya merely glared at his intruder, but despite his passive face he was quite frightened inside. He could feel his heart beating incredibly fast, his mouth turning dry and his thoughts were almost entirely on the logistics of a fight between himself and Zaraki. No matter how much he planned, thought or considered it he could not see how he could enter a fight with this man and win, even if he did win he would most certainly come out of the fight very injured. He was being presumptuous though. Yes, Zaraki was a brute, a fiend, a commoner, but he was not necessarily a man who would resort to violence with little provocation. Surely Byakuya's fears were unsubstantiated? There was no reason to assume the worst of this man, none whatsoever. It would not do to grow fearful of things that were not a danger, and it would only dishonour the Kuchiki name if he allowed himself to be swayed by a man so barbaric as this. So instead of resorting to violence, strong words or fear he reached for his intercom, resolved to call for security that would see this man off from his property. The moment his hand reached out for the intercom, however, Zaraki grabbed the device and ripped it from the desk, leaving its wires completely wrenched from the wall. It was at this point Byakuya felt fearful, wishing that he had installed a silent alarm under his desk like his staff had suggested.

"Oh no," Zaraki growled, "You ain't calling for help, Kuchiki. You're gonna sit down like a nice, little boy and tell me exactly why my student in there's got a tooth that sits nicely in his palm. You often slap around kids ten years your junior?"

"I can see where this student of yours has learnt such eloquence."

"Oh, so you just going to sit there and insult me? Well go ahead. I'm not one of your lackeys and I ain't scared of anything you have to say. You go around acting like some big shot because it scares everyone off, ain't that right? If no one's around poor, old Kuchiki then poor, old Kuchiki can't get hurt. Is that what you're scared of, getting hurt? Is that why you won't fight me, but you find it so easy to go around insulting and hitting those 'commoners' you find weaker than you?" Zaraki scoffed at that and slammed his hands down hard upon the glass desktop, shaking the entire contents of the desk and making Byakuya jump, "Well I got news for you, I ain't going nowhere and I sure as hell ain't afraid of you! So you better loosen up and tell me exactly why I'm going to have to fork out a fortune for a false fucking tooth, or I'm going to make you cough up teeth of your own!"

Byakuya found himself somewhat speechless.

No one had ever spoken to him like that in his life, ever! He wasn't sure whether to be completely offended, outraged and scared or to be in awe of this man who had spoken so honestly to him, who had spoken to him as a person and not as an unreachable figure of status. Of course there was some offence taken, how could there not be? Zaraki had just dared to invade his personal space, address him without honorific and yell quite viciously at him, not only that but he presumed to know Byakuya's personality and fears, and threatened him with physical violence. Yet at the same time that was an appreciation that for once in his life someone had seen him for whom he was! He wasn't being coddled or spoilt for being the only grandchild, he wasn't being ignored or snubbed as people assumed him to be a cold, cruel being, and he wasn't being used for his money or position. He was simply being spoken to as a man by a man, and most of all somebody was looking at him and not through him. It was nice to have some attention, even if it was negative and violent, it was nice just to have someone realise his existence and realise he was there. His friends so often seemed to forget he was alive, his family seemed to forget he had feelings, but this man had not forgotten Byakuya, and he would not overlook his wrongs simply because of what Byakuya was, instead he was addressing Byakuya for who he was. No, no one had ever spoken to him that way, but frankly it was something that he could get used to, because frankly the very act had impressed him more than he would like to admit. It was also somewhat arousing for him too; to have a man so strong and masculine overpower him in his own office, to take away the control that Byakuya had longed to be rid of on so many occasions . . . It was overall hard to know what to feel, how to feel, but all he knew was that Zaraki was certainly a very unpredictable man.

He carefully placed his hands against his desk and pushed himself back, allowing his chair to slide away and place some distance between himself and Zaraki. He hoped that this would allow him a chance to react if necessary, to see an attack coming before it actually came, but most of all he hoped it would allow him to resume control of this situation. He simply did not know how to respond or act with Zaraki in the lead. Never in his life had he lost control, never had he given control away. It was simply too disarming to allow this man to stay in a position of power in this room.

"Your student had taken a very rude tone with me," Byakuya responded calmly. "He then proceeded to put his hands on me. I reacted accordingly."

"Interesting. Since when did you have the right to discipline children other than your own, I wonder?"

Those words impacted him more than he had expected. He hadn't realise just what he had done, but he had disciplined a child that was not his own, disciplined a boy that was not his flesh and blood nor his responsibility.

He had no right to physically harm Madarame-san, no more than Madarame had the right to provoke Byakuya, and being the older of the two Byakuya should have pushed the boy aside and walked away. How had he allowed his temper to grow so far that he felt the need to physically attack the boy? What had occurred that – for once in his life – that he had allowed his emotions to take control? He was a strong man. He was a Kuchiki. How could he have allowed himself to be swayed by the words of a child? The very thought repulsed him, as if he was losing control over everything he was and would be, as if he had not only disgraced his family name but his own soul in the process. In future he would control his temper, and he would not repeat this mistake again. The only thing that plagued him was the question 'why'. Why had he allowed himself to get so angry? What was it that Madarame had done or said to provoke his wrath this way?

Byakuya took in a deep breath and opened a drawer under his desk, and removed a large chequebook. He lived in a cash society, one in which even cards were rarely used, and being that he himself rarely ever purchased anything – leaving it entirely to the servants and staff – he knew this was only the third time in the past five years he had used a cheque. It was strange to think that he so rarely had anything to do with money other than spreadsheet, board meetings and phone calls. It just made the distance between him and a man like Zaraki seem all the wider. He quickly shook the thought from his head and wrote down the details with a flourish, before handing the cheque to the older man.

"I am unaware as to what percentage of costs the national health insurance is willing to pay, but I believe it is around eighty percent of the overall cost of healthcare? I am also reluctant to admit I cannot recall the usual bills received for dental treatment. The cheque is for eighty-four-thousand yen, I trust that will be enough?"

Byakuya used all his self-control not to flinch as Zaraki snatched the cheque from his hand brutally, and tore it into small pieces before throwing it into the air. He staved off a reaction, keeping his face expressionless despite the fury coursing through his veins. How dare Zaraki literally throw his money back in his face? The insult was absolutely outrageous! This man could surely not have enough yen to pay for Madarame's treatment without his help; it was ridiculous to just throw it away like that. He needed Byakuya's money; he would be a fool to refuse it.

"I don't need your money, Kuchiki!"

"I insist on paying you for the damages inflicted upon your student."

Zaraki's eyes seemed to light up upon hearing this. He slowly stepped around the desk slowly and stood a mere foot away from Byakuya, glaring down at him as if he was the menace who entered people's homes uninvited and caused havoc.

He stood so tall that Byakuya could feel himself cast in the older mans shadow, leaving him both feeling apprehensive and awed. There was obviously a sense of dread, a fear being that he was now completely in the other man's power, that his safety and well-being resided solely in the trust and faith that Zaraki was above attacking people unprovoked, but there was also something more than that. He felt something flutter in his chest, some sort of primal and basic instinct and attraction, something that just drew him to Zaraki. It was a feeling that he had never felt with his wife, a sort of weakness that felt acceptable, like he just wanted to be drawn into those muscular arms and let go of his control, to give it all up to this man who would protect him. It was foolish, irrational, stupid, and yet he could not help it. He was an embarrassment to the Kuchiki name! How could he stand there and allow this man to overpower him? He should have fought back, called for help, escorted him off his premises, and yet all he could do was stand there and admire the man for all his power. He felt foolish and weak, and damn it he wanted to regain control in whatever way he could. He could not let Zaraki win.

Zaraki looked down at him with an almost lecherous grin, his teeth showing in what should have been a foul and disgusting manner, but instead seemed almost hypnotic and attractive. He was leaning so close that Byakuya could feel his warm breath upon his face, and although he did not flinch he realise he should have at least felt repulsed, but instead he stood there, anxious, waiting, but waiting for what he could not tell. What was he expecting from Zaraki? What was it that he wanted from this man? What could Zaraki possibly offer him or give him?

"I tell you how you're gonna repay me, Kuchiki," Zaraki said slyly. "You're going to go with me on a date. I'll leave my kid with Gin for the night, bit too soon for you to meet her, and that kid sister of yours can go hang out with a friend or something, and you and me can spend some quality time together. You hear me?"

"You must be insane, Zaraki-san. I would rather die than humiliate myself by associating with low-class, riff-raff like yourself."

The man must be a fool! Did he really think he could blackmail him into a date, simply by guilt tripping him about what he had done to Madarame-san? If he was to be seen with Zaraki someone would see them, someone would find out, and how would he ever explain that to his grandfather or to Rukia? This man was crass, coarse and subhuman. He was a born fighter and had little to no intelligence, living solely for the thrill of the fight. He didn't want Byakuya for any real reason such as love, marriage or money; all he wanted was either a quick, one-night fling or a punching bag with a pretty face. He would not lower himself to a one-night-stand, it was improper, immoral and so common, and he would also not allow himself to enter an abusive relationship. Zaraki was incapable of real love or affection. He would not be some toy to a commoner, and moreover he would not ruin his reputation by being seen with one. He would never live it down, never be able to explain it. It simply was not possible to date such a man. Where would they even go? Byakuya would certainly not enter a club, pub or a shopping mall, and how could Zaraki ever hope to afford fine dining, rich wines or romantic getaways? It was a foolish suggestion! He would most certainly not agree to it, there was simply no way!

"Aw, is little Kuchiki worried what people might think?" Zaraki laughed, "Fine, let's compromise, eh? We could always eat at your place or mine; of if you're too much of a coward to be left alone with me we could always double date somewhere. Gin's got a new boy-toy of his own, I'm dying to meet him, or what about a few drinks at Shunsui's place, I've heard you're pretty tight with Ukitake-san."

"Those suggestions are far too common. Besides, I simply do not have time in my schedule. I'm fully booked until next month. I suggest you simply take my money and leave."

Zaraki let out such a loud and hearty laugh that it took Byakuya completely by surprise. He lifted his head and wiped all emotion from his face, glaring at the kendo teacher as if he were merely a member of staff, as if he had no power in the world over Byakuya. He kept his eyes firmly upon Zaraki's face, watching his expression for any minute changes that would giveaway any vital information about his thoughts or feelings. The older man seemed deeply amused by his words, as if he had heard some sort of joke, and his actions did not amused Byakuya at all.

Then – just as soon as it had begun – the laughter stopped. Zaraki continued to peer down with a lecherous grin, but merely shook his head and lifted his palm in a dismissive gesture, as if waving Byakuya away. He then turned around and began to walk out of the room. Byakuya felt a sense of almost disappointment, but overall allowed himself to feel nothing but relief. Finally, the ogre of a man was leaving. He no longer had to fear about his personal safety or his reputation, it seemed that Zaraki had taken his hints and decided to give up, to leave. Of course there was a very small part of Byakuya that wanted Zaraki to stay, to enjoy the novelty of a person who could be so honest with him, so real and so truthful, but how could he – in all honesty – allow such a man to have his company? Zaraki was unworthy of his friendship, let alone his love and affection. The man was nothing more than a brute. So when the kendo teacher stood at the door for a long moment, still and unmoving, Byakuya resisted the urge to admire his body and instead focussed upon how much easier it would be to watch him leave. He did not need a man like that in his life, or Rukia's. In fact he could only be a bad influence upon his sister, marring her mind and making her as disgusting as any one of his pupil's. No, he was doing the right thing by letting him leave. There was no other choice.

It was then Zaraki looked over his shoulder as he opened the door, looking at Byakuya with a grin that could scare even the devil himself, before letting out a devilish chuckle.

"Yo, if I were you I'd check that organiser of yours in your desk. Next Friday, eight o'clock, you're going to be on a date with me. Don't forget, okay? You better dress up . . . or dress down in your case. Huh, bet a tight-ass like you doesn't even know the meaning of casual, but I hope you prove me wrong, Byakuya." The sound of his given name without honorific sounded far too intimate on the lips of a virtual stranger, he couldn't think of anyone other than his grandfather who addressed him as such. "See you around."

Byakuya stood there searing but remembered not to let a hint of emotion shine through. The moment that Zaraki closed the door behind him however he stormed over to his desk, wrenched open his drawer and violently fished around until he found his organiser. The slam it made when it hit the glass desk was almost as loud as the noise of Zaraki's fists upon the glass, but this time the sound was almost satisfying, a reflection of the anger that had built up inside of Byakuya.

He quickly flipped through the pages of the black binder. Next Friday? Next Friday he had an appointment to spend the afternoon with Gin, they were scheduled to meet at a restaurant the two had always enjoyed, in the evening he would be meeting Yoruichi who had insisted on seeing him to make sure he was still alive, as she had put it. All his other days that week were filled with work engagements or the rare few social events. Besides how could Zaraki possibly know his schedule or even change it? Nemu knew Byakuya's mind better than he himself did, and there was no way she would dream of booking in a meeting with Zaraki, and especially not to enter it into his private diary without as-! Gin. Of course, if he actually had an appointment with Zaraki it would have to be Gin who arranged it, that sly fox had a horrid way of knowing everything and playing pranks on anyone who so much as looked at him. Of course Gin would find something like this amusing, he would have to have severe words with that man, that was – of course – if he really did have said appointment.

He sighed deeply and found the relevant week in his binder. At first he was completely shocked and had to turn forwards and backwards to make sure he had the right week, and when he realised he had he was too surprised for words. The bright side was that he had been wrong, Gin had not been involved with any pranks on his person, and he had not touched his planner at all. That left him feeling oddly guilty; he hadn't meant to assume the worst about his friend after all. There was still one problem however . . .

All his appointments for that week had been rescheduled to other days and crossed out, and across the two pages that encompassed the whole week were the words: 'My special gift to Bya-kun, enjoy!'

No doubt anyone who read his planner would have assumed it a friendly, kind gesture that they would organise his events to give him a week free, fully allowing him to go on any dates that he wanted (or did not want as the case may have been). It wasn't exactly something he could criticise for the gesture was a warm one, although it incensed him that someone could play with his personal property and life with such ease. It was a total invasion of privacy. He also had to stop a few moments to keep reminding himself that this was not Gin's fault, even if the actual prank reeked of the fox-faced man. It was Gin's style but certainly not his handwriting. There was only one person he knew with such handwriting, and that man would most certainly be getting a rather angry visit later today. No one – no one – took such liberties with Byakuya's' life and possessions. He would certainly make them pay.

He took in a deep breath and grabbed his phone from his desk; dialling the number for his home secretary and making sure to keep his voice calm and collected as he spoke to her. Angry as he was he could not arrive at someone's home uninvited, he would first need to get Maria to call ahead and let his victim know that he was going to be arriving any moment now. Manners did not cost a thing after all.

"Maria-san," He spoke into the receiver, "Get Kyoraku-Sensei on the line."

He would definitely make his friend pay for this.

Kisuke sighed as he sipped at his cup of green tea.

He remembered a time back in med school, even a time when he first opened the shop, that he'd been optimistic, cheerful and frankly a bit of a pushover. There'd been an unending hope for the future, dreams of a perfect life, and he'd have done whatever it took to make the people around him happy, even at the cost of his own happiness. It was normal that over time he'd change, after all everyone changed as they got older, and – if he was to be honest – the whole Aizen incident really was a knock on his trust for others. It'd left him feeling that he couldn't trust anyone, that he'd have to watch his back at every turn, and most of all it had left his optimistic nature in shreds, replacing it with a pessimistic pragmatism. Sure he often wore a smile but, like Tessai and Yoruichi knew, he always made sure to plan ahead in case the worst case scenario took place, and he never took any risks unless he was sure they'd pay off. It just didn't seem worth it anymore to be so out there, when 'out there' was full have betrayal and backstabbing. It had taken him a long while, but eventually he'd realised that it was okay to open himself to people. Tessai, Yoruichi, Ichigo, Shinji, and all the others . . . he could trust them unconditionally, and as for his children? He loved Renji, Jinta and Ururu so much that he didn't think it possible to love them any more that he already did, even if he occasionally mentally planned his defence case if he just happened to kill them one night. Seriously, if anyone had to raise those three they'd soon learn how acceptable it was to picture smothering them with pillows, it wasn't as if he'd ever act on it of course . . . even if it would mean a silent night's sleep for once in the past six years.

There'd been a lot of changes over the years really. Like he said, it was the nature of people to evolve and to grow. Yoruichi loved retelling stories of Byakuya's youth for example, relishing in how the hot-headed, aggressive boy grew to be a coolheaded adult. He could remember Uryu too, always smiling and giggling, always telling Kisuke fantastic stories as he'd buy sweets galore from his store, and then the poor lad grew into an angry, emotional wreck who sought to be better than anyone and everyone. Huh, what was it about the adorable kids that made them grow into ice queens? Then again there were some people who never changed.

Zaraki-san still loved the thrill of the fight and the love of bloodshed, Rangiku-san was still the hopeless romantic he'd always known her to be, and Tessai had never changed from his cool, collected, calm demeanour. Sure, all three had dramatically changed their looks, but who they were and their fundamental personalities, those always stayed the same. They were never changing, never moving, always the same song and dance. It was nice really. It was something stable, something you could rely on, something that felt level in Kisuke's crazy world with illegal activities, a husband obsessed with 'tried and true' medicines, and kids who seemed intent on giving him a massive coronary by the time he was forty. It was nice to know where you stood with people, and what to expect from them. It was great to never have to worry and to just go with the flow of life. There was only one person who he wished would change, who he wished was even just slightly different, and that was Gin.

The man had always been the same: always. There had been times Kisuke had met Gin as a child, like when he'd go to meet Shinji and find his – at the time – shadow Aizen attached, along with Aizen's 'adoptive' son who'd tagged along to spend some quality time with his father figure. He remembered looking at that boy and being somewhat disturbed. He hated how Gin would always smile, always grin as if the whole world was a joke, and yet behind those eyes was a seriousness and severity that only an adult could possess. It was hard to interpret, hard to know if he saw the cruelty in the world and liked it, or hated what he saw but wished people to believe otherwise. No child should ever possess such maturity or such intellect. No child should ever look at an adult and appear to be psychoanalysing them. No child should ever be that manipulative either, knowing instantly what to say to impress people or to unnerve them, and always knowing which response to provoke in order to get the reaction they wanted. He'd imagined Gin had suffered some sort of trauma to make him that way, that with time that he'd grow out of it, but he didn't. The next time Kisuke saw Gin was when he had finished med school, and Gin himself had gotten a job as a teacher at a local senior school. It was as if all that time with Aizen had merely emphasised his already mysterious, intense and disconcerting nature, as if he'd merely learnt to harness his intelligence and Machiavellian traits rather than ridding himself of them. He seemed to be more a shadow of a man than a man himself. Yes, if there was one person he had hoped would change, it was certainly Ichimaru Gin.

Of course he loved the occasional visit. It gave Kisuke time to engage in a battle of wits, to exercise mind games that he so rarely got to play, and to exchange very important information with the man who seemed to know a little of everything. The problem was that although he loved occasional visits, he detested constant visits, and for every day for the past week and a half he had not been able to shake Gin. The man had come every day for at least a minute, all under the pretence of worrying about Ukitake's health. He may have been telling the truth, but it was impossible to tell with Gin. It could very well be possible that he had ulterior motives.

Currently the two sat quietly and politely around the dining table, sipping tea as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Kisuke had no doubt that Gin was exceptionally uncomfortable as he was, but the man wanted something, and so did Kisuke. It was one of those incredibly awkward moments when both parties knew something, both wanted something, and yet both were loath to be the first to speak, to ask, to make a move. It was like playing 'Chicken', where the first one to give into instinct was essentially admitting himself to be weaker than the other, and with two men as exceptionally stubborn as they were it was a game that could go on for a very long time. Kisuke knew that, Gin knew that, and so they were at a form of stalemate. In a moment one of them would no doubt begin a casual small talk, and hopefully business could lead from that, so that at least neither one of them would have to admit defeat. Until then all they could both do was simply sit, drink, and wait.

It wasn't long before Gin broke the silence.

The silver-haired man sat opposite Kisuke at the dining table, staring at him with a wide and sadistic grin, his hands holding elegantly onto his warm cup of tea. The screen door was open, thus adding a sense of space to their room whilst eliminating privacy, and so the atmosphere was an odd one. There was a sense of space and freedom, but at the same time it came at the cost of privacy, it made both men somewhat paranoid about what they would say and how it would be said, fearful of who would be listening, but it also made the game all the more interesting. It forced them both to rely on wits and cunning, and although Kisuke wasn't in the mood for such mental games it still tempted him, lured him into wanting to play. He couldn't deny that it was always fascinating to engage Gin a battle of wits.

"Ja! So how's Ukitake-san, Kisuke-san? Is he making a good recovery?"

"I believe he's still doing well, it'll be another three days until we can say for certainty that the treatment's worked, but it looks like he's made a full recovery."

Kisuke sipped his tea, trying to hide an expression of irritation. He'd heard the exact same question for the past twelve days now, and his patience was wearing thin. He wasn't sure if Gin was genuinely worried or simply had ulterior motives, working Kisuke's last nerve on a matter he cared little about in order to get access to a bigger prize. It seemed that he was trying to win Kisuke's trust, or at the very least make him slip up on certain subjects, all in order to pry information from the shopkeeper's mind. It seemed the two things he was most interested in was Ukitake's recovery and Mayuri's activities. Whilst he did seem to actually care about Ukitake, Kisuke still had to wonder if Gin was taking advantage of the situation to try and win more knowledge about Mayuri. In fact he'd even heard rumours that Gin had been pestering Nemu on occasion for details on her father, but it was impossible to say with certainty because it may have just been idle chit-chat, one man talking to a woman as he waited for Kuchiki to finish up in his office. It was hard to say why Gin would want such information, assuming it was true, but the likelihood was that it meant something to Aizen, something that he was willing to pay big bucks for to the person who revealed it, and probably something to do with his latest case against Ishida. It was all very curious, very curious indeed . . .

"Gin," Kisuke said with a soft sigh, "it's not often I say this but maybe we could just get straight to the point. I know you're not here for idle chitchat, and I'm sure your lunch break isn't any longer than mine."

"Aw, who says I ain't here for 'chitchat'? Ya must not think very highly of yourself if you think I wouldn't wan' 'o be friends with you. I would 'o thought a man like you, Kisuke-san, would have some more self-esteem."

Kisuke smiled brightly. The man was a born liar, and if he wanted to play silly, little children's games then two could play at that. There was no way he was going to make this easy for Gin, especially not when it was still only eleven o'clock in the morning and he'd much rather be asleep in bed, it was sheer torture being forced awake at this time to socialise! On the bright side at least Renji was coming home for lunch today, if he was lucky he'd be able to use it as an excuse to slide away from Ichimaru-san and get the redhead to mind the shop. Until then he was more than willing to turn his companion's games against him. It was the very least he could do considering the inconvenience Gin was putting him through, and a bit of torture never hurt anyone.

"Ah, so you're here as a friend, Gin?"

"Yeah! I mean, have I ever given you reason to think otherwise?"

Only every time you open your mouth, thought Kisuke. "No, of course not. Although I'm so relieved you're here as a friend, Gin! It means now we can talk openly and honestly!" He quickly gulped down his tea and gave a huge beaming smile of his own, his eyes hid entirely in shadow by his hat and his hair blustering slightly as he fanned it with his fan, "I mean I've got such a dilemma and I don't know who to turn to, but a friend would be so easy to confide in!"

He watched with interest as Gin's smile turned slightly crooked, his eyes narrowing as he lowered his head so that he was cast in a temporary darkness. He suddenly appeared all the more sinister and cruel, even if his expression was one of familiarity and openness. The younger man was obviously relishing in the idea that he was about to be privy to something secret and confidential, something that Kisuke had been saving for a 'true friend', and the very thought made the shopkeeper want to laugh out loud. His face was already jovial and open, like the few times he faked a slight hyperactive appearance in order to win Ichigo's trust, but the humour of the situation only increased his smile all the more. It wasn't a bad thing mind; he'd learnt over the years that an overly happy, ditzy, air-headed and hyperactive personality was often the best to portray. It meant that you not only gained the trust of those around you, but it also left people feeling secure around you, it meant they never saw you as the threat you truly were. It worked well too, for example Gin seemed to be buying right into it.

"Really, Kisuke-san? Well, I'm here t' help ya! What are friends for, right?"

"Exactly~" Kisuke replied, exaggerating the first syllable and ending in an almost singsong voice, "Well, you see it's like this . . . I'm so worried! Lately I think Tessai's been going a bit rough, always pounding and pounding, and each morning it's ever so sore! You know – come to think of it – whenever I go to the bathroom it always comes out all –"

"Ah! I believe that's plenty o' detail! Ya so mean too t' play such games!"

Kisuke had to hold back a rather loud laugh at Gin's expression. The poor guy had actually raised both hands in a gesture of defeat, and his eyes kind of squinted in disgust as if by trying to blind his sight he could get rid of any mental images that plagued his mind. His smile had even gone entirely, instead to be replaced with a rather nervous, terrified half-smirk and half-frown. If Kisuke didn't know any better he would have said that Gin had paled considerably too.

"Aw," Kisuke said with mock sadness, fanning his face leisurely. "Here I thought we were friends. I'm so disappointed . . . Here I go confiding in you and you hurt me in return! Oh, the pain is so unbearable . . ."

Gin gave a little pout and folded his arms assertively.

"My, my," He almost whined, "Ya no fun today. I should o' gone with Zaraki-Sensei to Kuchiki-san's instead, would o' been more fun. Least then I would o' got to be the one doin' the teasin'."

If he'd been a lesser man then he may have felt slightly guilty over teasing Gin. The poor guy's words just sounded so hurt, his tone going up and down on each word as if trying to fight back a wave of sorrow, as if he was genuinely hurt or offended. There was also the way he was slightly hunched, with his lips in a sharp pout that probably had lesser men like Ukitake asking for forgiveness or men like Aizen offering it. It was a little disconcerting. It wasn't right to see a grown man acting this way, trying in such an obvious attempt to evoke sympathy and get attention. He would have expected such a response from Jinta or Ururu, but even a kid Renji's age tended to have grown out of such a gesture. The only person he knew who pouted like that was Ichigo-kun, or maybe Soi Fon . . .

Still, he knew full well it was just an act. If he had showed the slightest bit of guilt Gin probably would have milked it for all it was worth, before jumping up with 'ha, I lied' and smiling like a cat that got the cream. The guy's sole entertainment came from playing with people, from manipulating their emotions and twisting them into something to amuse him. It was childish, sadistic and creepy, but Kisuke knew that it was just something he'd have to put up with. It wasn't like he didn't carry those same traits at times himself. After all, hadn't he just played Gin and manipulated him just for the fun of it? Maybe Kisuke was a lot more like Gin than he liked to admit, but still, it didn't mean he had to like the guy any more than he did.

"So Gin, what are you really here for?"

"What am I ever here for? I got something t' trade ya."

Admittedly his interest was piqued. More often than not Gin's information turned out to be quite useful, however they both knew well that to trade something you had to give something of equal worth, and he wasn't sure – what with circumstances as they were – that he'd be willing to pay the price. Of course a heavy price meant the information he'd get in return would be worth a lot more, but frankly he was starting to wonder if ignorance really was bliss . . . He could certainly say that he could have done without seeing some of the photos of Renji down at Rangiku's bar, and he certainly could have done without a hung-over Shinji telling him a blow-by-blow account of everything he'd done with Aizen. Still, there was no way of telling if it was worth it until he heard Gin out, and so it looked like he might as well settle down and listen to the man.

"Really? What is it that you want from little, old me?"

Gin's smirk came back full force. "Copies of all your research involving Ukitake-san. Aizen-sama recons he could use it as proof that the antidote works, what with all your science stuff being in it. It could whack up the percentage of profit Mayuri-san wins from Ishida-san, and that means more profit for Aizen-sama, ya know?"

"You're being awfully up front for once, Gin. What do you have to offer in return?"

"This."

Kisuke quirked an eyebrow expectantly as Gin reached a bony arm inside his white overcoat, careful not to ruffle the uniform due to his need to return to class in less than an hour. He seemed to find what he needed and slowly withdrew his arm, his hand coming up to reveal in his grip a videocassette in a blank case. It was strange for Kisuke, he hadn't seen such an old piece of technology in years, he'd updated the security cameras in his shop to computer and DVD a few years back, and he wondered if anyone still owned a video recorder. Well, he was sure Renji and Jinta did, the boys often watched really old movies on video rather than deigning to spend money replacing them, but Ururu, Tessai and himself always watched films on the new equipment. He hoped that there was more to this than met the eye, because if Gin wanted to trade vital information with Kisuke in return for a trip to the eighties, then he wasn't impressed.

The shopkeeper leant back slightly and looked up to the ceiling, fanning his face and trying to remain impassive and emotionless, showing little to no sign of feeling in his features. Meanwhile Gin looked positively devilish, his eyes nothing but narrow slits and his lips but a thin line as they stretched into a menacing smile. Obviously the tape meant something, but what Kisuke wasn't sure.

"You want me to give you vital scientific information, that could potentially land Mayuri and myself in jail, just to help out the very man who betrayed my friend and lost me my job . . . in return for a videotape?"

"My, my, Kisuke-san! This ain't just any videotape!" Gin said as he waved it lightly in the air, "Ya see, a while back I somehow lost my key-card for work. Not for the school, nah, if I did that I'd be fired for sure! It's for my other work. Ya see, I sometimes work on the side for Aizen-sama, giving lectures and presentations, that kind of thing. Plus I always like to go visit, so he gave me a key-card to get in. He's a nice guy like that! He likes t' know his employees can always get to work, and he's always been like a mentor to me, so it's nice t' always be able to get in and see him, but – would you believe it? – I lost my key!

"Of course I eventually had to report it, and Aizen-sama was pretty miffed, but he got Szayel-san from the Technological Department to make me a new one! Says I got to be more careful though, and in the meantime he's got Stark-san trying to track down the guy who's got my old key-card. Seems like someone's tried to break in twice using it, right shame, ain't it? Can't trust no one these days." Gin seemed almost wistful as he said that, before perking up again. "So anyways, I head to the security centre one night, 'cause Grimmjow-san had left his little sister in the office and I really ain't too good with kids . . . turns out that he'd asked Ulquiorra-san to baby-sit, ya know? Only whilst he set up his new place, but then Ulquiorra-san said he had work to do and left me with little Nel, so I had to take her to the security centre on the ground floor. Ja! You won't ever guess what I saw there!"

Kisuke really had no idea. Truth be told his head was already swimming with all the information of Gin's story, which admittedly was a very good trick to use, albeit a rather annoying one.

Gin had long ago learnt that by telling a long story of great detail that it often brought about a sense of trust in his words, the general consensus being that no one could remember that much information if it was a lie and not slip up at some point. However, Gin had also learnt that there was two kinds of truth, and so even when he told events as they happened, detail by detail, in all honesty, he could still hide his true motives and reasoning, making him appear almost innocent by spinning his story from a whole new perspective. No doubt such a trick worked on most people, leading them to either believe what he said to be true, or for them to realise he was lying but unable to call him on it, because how could you call someone a liar when they hadn't technically told a single lie? Everything he said had happened, and how could anyone prove that he hadn't really 'lost' his key-card, or that he hadn't' really 'been looking for Aizen' or that he was actually great with kids if the situation arose? Those were the lies, the things that could never be proved to be false, and when you wrap such lies up in a sea of honesty and facts . . .

It was nearly as infuriating as the times when he told a truth so outrageous people assumed it to be false, where they thought he was lying and acted contrary to what he'd said, not knowing he was really being honest. The point of the matter was that Gin wasn't technically a liar, but that didn't mean you could ever trust him. He was a manipulative Machiavellian at its worst, and no doubt even Aizen feared him, even if he secretly admired him at the same time.

"What did you see?" Kisuke asked.

"Well Stark-san was on duty that night, and Nel went all hyper and started to bounce on him and he got distracted from the monitors, and then I saw it! It was ya little, blonde pal who'd stolen my keycard! My, I was so shocked. Couldn't believe it, ya know? Not only that but he was busy screwing Luppi-kun right in the security room! It was some really kinky stuff too, so perverted I actually felt a bit sick. I didn't know that ya pal was into that kind o' stuff. So I pointed it out to Stark-san, and he told me he hadn't been on duty long but someone had come in and deleted a bunch of security footage, but they weren't smart at all, nah, because they left the footage of Blondie screwing with Luppi-kun on tape. Turns out Stark-san was makin' a copy for Aizen-sama, cause it's his duty, ya know? I got him to give me the original master-copy though."

Gin waved the tape around a little bit more. Kisuke couldn't deny that his interest was captured, and that he was willing to trade. After all if a tape like that got leaked out it'd cause a huge scandal for Shinji, and it would ruin his reputation as well as humiliate him too. It felt like his duty as a friend to make sure he got the tape from Gin and stopped it from getting into the wrong hands, although he didn't have to do Shinji any favours he was far too loyal to just let this slide and let his friend come to harm. He gave Gin a stark look that spoke volumes over what he thought about such blackmail.

"Figured that you and Blondie wouldn't want more eyes seeing this than need be, so I figured I'd trade ya for your research . . ." Gin said conversationally. "Of course I could always 'dispose' of this in a harmless way if ya don't want it." He gave a deep sigh and looked into the distance sadly. He seemed kind of downtrodden and downhearted; it was an almost pitiable sight. "That's two sex tapes I've seen in two weeks, and both o' them got Hirako-san in. Ja, I wouldn't ever dream about making a tape like that, even if my boyfriend would let me, then again I ain't like Hirako-san, am I? I mean that pal of yours is a real 'butter-legs', huh?"

"Pardon?"

"You know," Gin shrugged, "Easy to spread."

Kisuke immediately bristled. His eyes took on a sharper glare, looking at Gin with such intensity that the younger man couldn't miss the anger and rage behind it, and his back became straight as a rod. His very posture and demeanour had become more tense, rigid and taut, almost as if he were preparing himself for a physical battle of sorts. Sure, it was pretty stupid to let Gin get to him that way, after all Shinji may have been his friend but he was also his own man, there was no reason for Kisuke to be offended by what the teacher had said, but that was it, there was a reason to be offended by Gin's words. Shinji was his friend.

The blonde had always been there for Kisuke, offering him advice when he first opened the shop, helping him deal with Hiyori and her tempers, and even supporting him through the adoption process that he and Tessai went through. Shinji was an undying, loyal friend and at the very least Kisuke owed him for all he'd done, and that meant not letting anyone slander his name unnecessarily. An insult to Shinji was basically an insult to Kisuke. Not only that but Gin was here to trade information, he wanted something from Kisuke as much as Kisuke would want that damned tape from him, and to go around provoking someone who you wanted a favour from . . . well, it was a little like biting the hand that feeds you.

After a long moment Kisuke snapped his fan shut and lowered his hand upon his lap. The smile he gave to Gin seemed a little too innocent, and hence looked a little too disconcerting, almost as if he had something up his sleeve . . .

"You're not one to talk about sexual indecency, Gin," Kisuke said with a very devious smile, "because from what my adorable, little Renji's been confiding in me there's a few rumours going around about you, mainly that you've been sleeping with a pupil. Kira-kun, if I'm not mistaken."

Gin's face was a picture; the look of both shock and fury was so perfect that it really made Kisuke wish he had a camera ready, it wasn't often one saw such an expression on Gin's face, one of pure unadulterated emotion. It was nice to see that something could actually rile the teacher up, actually provoke him into a response of sorts, that he wasn't entirely an actor without emotions of his own.

It was times like these that he was glad that he had the relationship with Renji that he had. Sure his son annoyed him to hell, sure he often annoyed his son to the point Renji wished he hadn't been born, but overall their relationship was one of complete trust, honesty and acceptance. There were times when Renji felt unable to talk to his friends, or even to his other father, where he couldn't trust them not to make a huge deal, or lecture him or worry about him, and Kisuke knew what that feeling was like. It wasn't nice to feel alone, to feel that you had no one to turn to for advice, and so he'd made sure from day one that no matter what Renji told him he'd respond level-headed and rationally. He wanted Renji to be able to come to him, so that way rather than suffering alone he had someone to help him fix things with. Of course there were some things Renji would never tell him, ask him or confide about, you know, like teenage sex issues or intimate relationship troubles, but Kisuke hoped that was normal, that no child would go to a parent with anything that personal . . . Well Kurosaki-san might try with his kids, but he had no doubt that Karin and Ichigo would punch him first before ever actually talking about stuff like that. So when Renji had came home one evening, yelling in frustration about how no one believed him about a serious matter, Kisuke had calmed him down and spoken to him about it, refusing to pass judgement so that Renji wouldn't feel judged. In the end he'd learnt that Renji thought his friend Kira had entered a sexual relationship with Gin, and the reasons why. The only reason Kisuke had kept the issue private was because he had no solid proof, but if it turned out to be true then he'd have no choice but to go to the school and report Gin. After all, Renji's safety came first, and a teacher who engaged in such activities wasn't entirely safe to have around kids . . .

"I'd hate to find out that my wonderful, eldest son was actually not mistaken all along, that he'd been telling the truth," Kisuke said with feigned sadness. "Why, I'd have to report such actions at once! Then my favourite pal in the whole world would lose his job, and poor Kira-kun would be humiliated by such a public scandal, coming from such an upper-class family and all . . ."

"Ah, well I wouldn't listen to anything ya son said, Kisuke," Gin said, dropping all pretences of politeness and formality. "He ain't exactly the smartest kid on the block, is he? Last exam I set he failed miserably. Apparently it was the Japanese that bombed Hiroshima, which adds a whole new dimension to suicide-bombing . . ." Gin smirked brightly, his eyes narrowed dangerously to show his sadistic intent, "I shouldn't be surprised though, should I? What with Tessai being his dad an' all . . . I mean the guy didn't even have the smarts to be a shopkeeper; instead he's just a measly shopkeeper's assistant. What a role model, eh?"

It took every ounce of Kisuke's strength not to throw Gin out of his shop then and there. He had to get that tape after all, and it wasn't as if he could just forcefully steal it as Aizen had the master copy, and although Aizen would most likely keep that secret – or as a means to blackmail Shinji – Gin could almost certainly get another copy, and Kisuke was sure he had no qualms about using the tape in unscrupulous ways. That did of course imply that Aizen had some moral code of conduct, but the truth of the matter is that the tape also involved Luppi, and if the tape was made public or taken to court then Luppi could be accused of a number of things, including sexual harassment, which would be very bad for Aizen's law firm. Gin, however, didn't have the same attachments to Arrancar, and although he wouldn't use the tape in anyway to put his mentor and father figure at risk, he might use it to humiliate Shinji in retaliation at Kisuke. In fact he could just picture now the wrong movie used during a social movie night, or maybe someone accidentally slipping in the wrong tape for the TV in Matsumoto's Bar, or even just leaving it running in a conference room for when the Vizards wanted to entertain a new client . . . No, he might be seriously pissed with Gin, but getting that tape was more important that simply getting even, and the best way to get rid of the man was to simply give him what he wanted. They would do the trade and then they'd go their separate ways, and hopefully he wouldn't have to see the teacher for a very long time. Although, he'd be sure to make a note that if Renji got marked down in any future history exams unfairly that he'd take the matter up with Gin, even if with Renji's grades as bad as they were it'd be hard to tell if Gin was being unfair or not . . .

"Let's not let the tone of our conversation shift any lower, shall we?" Kisuke said with a broad grin, "After all it simply wouldn't do for us to go back to work sporting physical injuries. So why don't we just get this over with, hmm? It seems that Yoruichi-san stopped by today to pay me a visit too, and I'm sure she's overheard every word, so if she'd be so kind as to fetch Tessai for me and ask him to bring up the right files? Thanks."

There was a slight shuffling from behind one of the screen doors, and a low mumbling that sounded like a complaint. It wasn't unusual for Yoruichi to often spy on his conversations, and she could be trusted to keep things confidential, in fact – more often than not – when she wasn't physically present in meeting people would often call out to her anyway, knowing from experience she'd be within hearing distance and able to reply. Ah, the life of a rich heiress! It was enough to make Kisuke somewhat jealous, if only he had the time to constantly prowl around town or to just hang out with friends, it'd be pretty much a dream come true.

Gin's face lost some of its humour for a moment before turning back into a lifeless smile, and he glanced at Kisuke with a sort of emotionless expression. It as hard at the best of times to tell what was hiding behind that smirk of his, but now that all the humour had drained from his face it was near impossible. He couldn't help but think that Gin would be an excellent poker player, because not only did he have not one single tell, but he could manipulate his expression, body language and tone to mimic any emotion he wanted, and it was always the emotion he felt he needed to portray to get the response he wanted. He never gave away his true motives or thoughts, and the rare times he did there was always a hidden motive. He was impossible to predict, impossible to understand, and when he dropped all pretences and acts it was even worse, it left him looking like a man without a soul, like the devil himself. How could anyone ever hope to bargain with a man like that? You couldn't plan one step ahead with Gin, you had to plan several, and each time you made a move he'd change the rules and sweep the rug from under your feet. He was perhaps the most dangerous of all enemies, solely because you didn't know if he was your enemy or not.

"I hope you don't mind, Kisuke-san, if I check those files carefully before I give you the tape?" Gin said, tilting his head slightly to the side, almost as if he hoped it would give him a better angle of observation, "Just I want t' be sure I ain't being double-crossed, ya know? Wouldn't do me no good to go back to Aizen-sama with the wrong information an' all."

"Likewise, I hope you won't mind if I watch the tape before I let you leave."

"Aw, I ain't sure if that's smart o' ya or perverted o' ya, but if it makes you feel better I won't raise any objections. Just don't make me stay in the room as ya watch it? I've seen enough of Hirako-san as I can stand for one lifetime."

Kisuke was just about to retaliate when the shop door's burst wide open. It took the attention of both Gin and Kisuke, forcing them to turn their heads away from one another and to the two boys who'd just entered.

The first one they noticed was of course Ichigo, probably as he was the most suspicious looking of the two. He'd literally opened the door a crack in order to poke his head inside, looking around casually before seeing his friend's father and schoolteacher sitting staring at him, at which point he'd yelped and slammed the door shut. Then came the sound of loud bickering followed by what sounded like 'are you kidding? It's me he'll kill! He won't kill you, you're his son!' followed by the door suddenly being kicked wide open to reveal both Ichigo and Renji. Yoruichi must have snuck behind Kisuke at this point because suddenly the files he needed were being dropped onto the table, before footsteps shuffled away, but he was too engrossed with the sight before him to care too much about his friend's sudden appearance. When Renji said he'd be coming home for lunch Kisuke had expected many things, but not quite this . . .

Ichigo was standing pretty tall but looking as if he wanted the ground to swallow him whole, his eyes wide with an almost imperceptible drop of sweat on the side of his face, and his mouth wide in a nervous grin. He looked like the personification of guilt, which couldn't be good in the slightest, and considering the state of his uniform he'd probably been in a fight of sorts too. His shirt was no longer tucked in, his jacket rather ruffled, and there were grass stains all over his trousers, his wrists looked rather bruised too as if someone had been holding him down, and there was blood on his shoulders, although it didn't seem to be his own. He was stumbling over his words as he tried to get out an explanation, but it was at that point Renji elbowed him in the side and told him to be a man, before hobbling into the shop with a groan. Of course the elbow to Ichigo's side only cause Ichigo to lose what little patience he had and threaten to knock Renji out, but when the redhead nearly fell over Ichigo gave a noise of surprise and rushed to his side, helping him to stand up once again, and wrapped his arm underneath Renji's to help him stumble over into the private rooms of the shop, and probably lead him to his bedroom.

It was the sight of Renji, properly and up close, which had Kisuke into panicking parent mode. He instantly jumped to his feet and frantically ran over to Renji's side, fanning his face quickly as if somehow the gesture would hide his absolute fear at the sight of his eldest son looking somewhat like a bloody pulp.

Renji looked seriously far from well and healthy. His uniform was actually ripped all over, and his school jacket was literally hanging on by a thread, his shirt buttons had all been forcibly ripped off and his bandanna had gone from rainbow coloured to sheer red with blood. His lower lip was cut, his left eye swollen, and his skin that was on show was black and blue all over. Luckily whoever had cornered Renji and Ichigo in a fight hadn't seemed to have used any weapons, as far as Kisuke could see his son had no gunshot wounds or knife wounds. His left leg was clearly bandaged though, he could see underneath one of the several slashed in the fabric, and he was covered in mud and grass stains all over. The poor kid, even his hair was loose and clinging to his sweat-stained face. He automatically began to run his hands over Renji's body, searching out for any damage, and when he touched Renji's shoulder his son yelled out angrily and tried to bat his father away, continuing to wander in the direction of the bedrooms.

"Jesus! Will you leave it? My arm was freaking dislocated, it's still sore!"

Kisuke would have hit Renji hard if he didn't think his son was already in enough agony. Seriously, did this kid know how worried he was? He was terrified! He had no idea what had happened, or what injuries Renji sustained or if whoever did it would come back and do it again! It was his duty as a father to protect his son, to nurture him and look after him, to stop any harm from coming to him, and yet here his son stood in a bloody mess, looking like a car had hit him. This couldn't have been an accident, someone had to have hurt him and that person was seriously going to be dead by the time Kisuke got a hold of them. No one touched a hair on his children's heads and got away with it, if he had to he'd be sure to slice them limb from limb, not only as revenge but also as a message not to mess with his family in future.

Ichigo gave a nervous pout as Renji shrugged him away and limped off to his bedroom, leaving his friend standing alone with Kisuke and Gin as he went to collapse in bed, hoping that either of his father's wouldn't follow him. Ichigo had been hoping to go and make sure Renji was okay, but obviously his friend was still pissed at him, and he really didn't want to explain things to Kisuke. He really, really didn't. This wasn't exactly something he wanted to admit any part in, not if he could help it at any rate.

"It's – it's nothing, Urahara-san." Ichigo muttered nervously, scratching his neck as he looked to Gin desperately for support, "We just ran into some trouble down by the river, you know? I took Renji right to Ishida-san's for treatment, and Ishida-san released Renji after a couple of hours and promised not to tell my dad about any of it. I think he's going to send Uryu around after school to check him out."

Kisuke wasn't an idiot. He knew that Ichigo's father's clinic was closer to the place in question than Ishida's hospital was, and the fact Ichigo admitted he didn't want his father knowing certainly implied he had some involvement in this. Even if the facts didn't add up the guilty look on the orange-haired youth was enough to give him away. So Kisuke merely smiled politely, and spoke as calm as he could.

"I see. Is there any reason why you don't want your father to know, Ichigo-kun?"

"Err, well, you see, Mr Hat-and-Clogs," Ichigo said as he cleared his throat, eyeing the shop doors as if they were the most wonderful sight in all of creation, "The guy who cornered us was someone we knew, a friend really, and – err – I don't want my dad to get the wrong idea about the person in question. It'd be really awkward."

"Oh, so you know who beat up my son?"

Ichigo drew in a deep breath and nodded. He knew there was no point in lying, not around Urahara anyway, because the man was more than able to make his and Renji's life a living hell if he needed to . . .

"Yeah. I do."

"So? Who was it?"

"Grimmjow . . ." Ichigo sighed, before catching the look in Kisuke's eyes and jumping to his boyfriend's defence, "Ah! It's not what you think, honestly! See, Renji and I were taking a shortcut to school and one of Grimmjow's friends spotted us and started up a conversation, Stark I think, so we kind of got delayed. We didn't realise it was a trap! By the time we realised it two guys came up behind us, Nnoitra and Grimmjow. Grimm told Stark to not let me get hurt else he'd kill him, and Stark refused to fight anyway, said he couldn't be bothered, so the guy pinned me to the floor. He was too freaking strong! I could budge him, and believe me I tried! That's when Nnoitra and Grimmjow started laying into Renji. I think they'd had it planned, and sent Stark out to corner us, you know? They only stopped when some chick rang Stark on his phone and he told them it was time to go." Ichigo blushed a bit before taking a step away from Kisuke, instinctively moving closer to the door, "It was then Stark let me up and Grimmjow ruffled my clothes up a bit and gave me a love-bite, said he hoped Renji got the message and then the three of them left. I – I didn't know, I swear! If Stark hadn't had me pinned I'd have kicked Grimmjow's ass for sure!"

Ah, and so it now made some sense . . . Of course Ichigo had decided to take Renji all the way over to Ishida's rather than Kurosaki's, because if his father found Renji beat to a pulp he'd have asked questions, and even if he didn't the tense atmosphere between the two boys would have told him enough. Kisuke knew full well how overprotective Isshin Kurosaki was, if he knew that Ichigo's older boyfriend had lured the two into a trap only to beat the crap out of Renji he'd certainly go insane. It was bad enough that his son had – in Kurosaki's view – been taken advantage of the night after the party. If he then learnt that Grimmjow had gone onto beating up on his friend's kid whilst holding his son captive . . . Kisuke could picture the response. Isshin would go very serious, very intense and either command Ichigo to call it all off or want a very severe word with Grimmjow, before either punching the guy or threatening him. Even if he allowed his son to carry on dating Grimmjow he'd still most likely sock the guy one, so Ichigo was no doubt protecting his boyfriend, which explained why Renji was so pissed with him.

Oh, to be young again! Who did one choose, your lover or your best friend? It was a tough choice admittedly, and Kisuke wasn't sure exactly what he'd do if someone said to him 'Tessai or Yoruichi', but this wasn't exactly the same thing. Renji hadn't given Ichigo an ultimatum, he'd simply wanted support from his friend because said friend's boyfriend had done him wrong. That was understandable, wasn't it? After all if Tessai went and beat the crap out of Uryu how could anyone expect Kisuke to defend him? Sure, he loved his husband, but he wouldn't defend him if he'd done something so terribly wrong. Then there was the fact that this was his son that had been injured and so badly hurt, and frankly the fact that Ichigo was so closely involved and defending the perpetrator made him want to kill the boy. The only thing holding him back was the fact that Ichigo hadn't known and he did try to stop it, but if he ever saw Grimmjow, around either Renji or Ichigo, he'd kill the man. There couldn't be any excuse for what Grimmjow had done, none, and the fact that someone could do this to his son -! His heart was pounding in a way it rarely ever did, and it was nearly impossible to control himself to the extent he wished to. All he could say was Ichigo better have a damned good reason for why Grimmjow did this; otherwise his boyfriend was soon going to be his girlfriend.

"Ichigo. Why did Grimmjow do this?"

"Oh, well, you see," The teenager sucked in a deep breath as he blushed red like a tomato, obviously completely embarrassed by the whole situation, "It was at the party, and – err – well, we were all pretty drunk and I wasn't quite sure what was going on, well, yeah, then I was flirting with Renji and kind of passed out, I'm not really used to alcohol, you know? Then, well, I guess Renji kissed me, and Grimmjow was right in front of us, and he could see how drunk and unconscious I was too, so he got really angry. I – I think Renji was too drunk to know what he did, but Grimmjow is pretty possessive, so he said he was going to beat Renji up . . . I didn't think he actually would! I thought it was just the pain meds, booze and testosterone talking!"

Kisuke sighed. What he'd done to deserve a life like this he had no idea . . .

"So Renji kissed you?" He asked, Ichigo nodded. "But you were really drunk and passed out?" He asked, Ichigo nodded. "But Grimmjow was only a few feet away and saw the whole thing?" Again Ichigo nodded.

Ah, so it wasn't exactly an unprovoked attack after all . . . If Renji was stupid enough to kiss the boyfriend of what used to be a street hooligan, one that only escaped serious jail time because of his gang connections, then he really did deserve to get beaten up. Seriously, did he think that because Grimmjow lacked a criminal record and now had a very decent lifestyle that he wasn't dangerous? Not only that but he felt rather disappointed in Renji, after all he and Tessai had taught all three children self-defence and fighting skills since the moment of adoption, and yet Renji couldn't handle one little fight? Then again it was two-on-one, it was hardly fair, and it wasn't as though Renji would be able to concentrate with his friend pinned to the floor not that far away. Still, the next time he saw Grimmjow he was really going to make the man suffer, even if he had to get creative and very careful, he'd make that man pay for hurting his little boy.

"Okay, Ichigo, you can head back now," Kisuke said sadly, "But I'm going to have to tell your dad about this, just no two ways about it."

"Thanks, Kisuke."

The shopkeeper watched with a slightly despondent expression as Ichigo all but ran from the shop, probably heading to school so as not to miss his afternoon classes, because he couldn't quite see him heading home or to Grimmjow-san's.

He turned away from the doors with a sigh and smiled brightly at Gin. Frankly he felt as far away from happy as possible, because inside he was terrified, all he wanted to do was to go to Renji and comfort him, make sure he was okay and tend to his injuries. Then he wanted to find Tessai and engage him in a huge but comforting hug, just to be reassured that their son wasn't in any serious trouble and was going to be okay. It felt like an intrusion having Gin there, like someone was interrupting a private and personal moment only privy to family members, and he also didn't like knowing that Gin now had some extra information about him and his private life. Luckily however the younger man seemed to know that now wasn't the time to make a nuisance and stood ready with the files in hand, the videotape on the table where Kisuke had just been sitting moments before.

"I'll just go," Gin said sadly, "Ya can trust me though, that's the right tape, I promise."

"Thank you, Ichimaru-Sensei."

"Nah, it ain't a big deal . . ." He walked away at a slow but leisurely pace, pausing by the shop doors to look back at Kisuke with an almost quizzical expression, before taking one last jab at him, "But Renji really ain't the smartest kid about, is he?"

"No," Kisuke said sadly, "No, he's not."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

By Rachael

There were some days at the office, where it seems like centuries have passed, rather than a few measly hours. Today sucked… perhaps just in comparison to the day before. Yesterday had been a wonderful day; their break from the office had been taken up by going out with Grimmjow to beat up some kid. It had been explained to him during his last five minutes before lunch; the blue haired man came in, royally ticked off about something, but he had this creepy Cheshire cat style grin on his face, and Stark was with him. It had been something to do with the guy who kissed Grimmjow's little squeeze in high school. He was in from the phrase 'Teach him a lesson'… though in fairness, he'd have been willing to help because it was Grimmjow; they bonded over mutual hatred of Luppi. It was the best lunch break ever; they'd followed Kurosaki Ichigo and his friend with really long red hair who Grimmjow called 'that little bastard'. Anyway, it had been one hell of a fight, they sent Stark around to head them off and get them talking. God, the red-headed kid nearly shat himself when him and Grimmjow came out, Stark held down Kurosaki Ichigo, who didn't half flail around, fairly useless though. He'd let Grimmjow lay in the first punch, the kid put up a bit of a fight – not enough for his liking, but it made it seem fairly fun. Nnoitra was a nice guy, always willing to help his friends, especially when it involved beatings… It was truly an excellent day… unlike now.

Nnoitra groaned as he reread the case before him… it was very dull… Some guy had lost… something… Tossing aside the part of him that was a professional, the man in him, wondered at times why he should care about these people? Some guy doesn't fix a door handle in properly and his roommate falls down the stairs when the doorknob comes off, breaks his ankle… Why should he care? The defendant was a tightwad who didn't want to pay out for a professional D.I.Y. person to come and fix in his doorknob. Should being a tightwad, really be a punishable offence? Clearly, the law thought so.

Today his case as a particularly dull one, and the office environment was wrong. As much as he hated to admit it, it was probably due to the fact Grimmjow wasn't here… and Luppi was. The stupid little bitch had gathered quite an uninterested crowd, and was yapping away about some poor unfortunate he'd been screwing the other day. The only sane company around him was Stark, who'd once again snuck away from his duties, to nap around the lawyer's staff room. Mind you, since it was the largest with the best heating… he couldn't really blame the older man.

"It was the most amazing sex I've ever had. He was so sweet too, rang me as soon as I got home. He bought me dinner the other day too, I told you, right? Its destiny," Luppi was chatting away happily, "True love, I think he's a keeper, you know?"

God, that brat pissed him off. He thought of texting Tesla to tell him to hurry up collecting their coffee, though most likely all that would achieve would be the blonde man spilling it, and then apologizing meekly for having done so (for the next three hours).

Some of the women in the office were asking questions about Luppi's ridiculous story… sounded like a load of bull to him from what he did hear. The guy would have to be a mental patient to call Luppi (after all, the little freak would then have a number to ring him back on…), or desperate to take him out to dinner. Theoretically, what should have been Luppi's type (he'd heard Halibel saying one time) were desperate aging rich nerds, who'd be flattered by his attention and go to great lengths to give him what he wanted. Unfortunately, Luppi had told her he was grossed out by types like that, he liked good-looking guys who had big muscles and liked to have fun. One of the irritated things about working hard at your job is that you learn a load of stupid office crap about your fellow workers.

"I wonder if he'll cheat on you, Luppi-kun."

A couple of people chuckled at that; Stark opened an eye to see if Luppi would respond by blowing his lid… Nnoitra knew he wouldn't, he'd know that voice from anywhere. The perhaps, only person Luppi would never talk back too. Nnoitra looked up and turned his head to see his former lover heading into the staff room, passing the now rather quiet Luppi, who'd reclined into the large sofa, a finger playing with the spine of his mug; like a dog with its tail between its legs.

He'd never known anyone like Szayel. He looked masculine and feminine in small ways; he had a clear bone structure, calculating pink eyes, long lashes, a firm jaw line and muscular shoulders. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and ignored Nnoitra's eyes on him, as he went to open the fridge door.

"Well, actually," Luppi seemed to have recovered his nerve, "I don't think he will cheat on me."

Szayel didn't dignify him with an answer; he made a small sarcastic sounding affirmative, standing up to pour himself a glass of strange looking liquid. As someone who used to be a medical researcher, Szayel was fanatical about his health; he was always taking things a little compulsively.

"He won't cheat on me," Luppi continued, "Because he's marrying me."

A couple of people looked up at that, even Stark, who sat upright in interest. It was a ridiculous notion – who the hell would marry Luppi? What a load of horseshit! The room had gone completely quiet. Then the women began to come closer, asking him a long series of questions, which the little fucker jumped to answer, now yapping away cheerfully about how he was going to start wearing the ring… "When it's alright for him, my fiancé has such an important career; he didn't want a big show yet!"

Szayel rolled his eyes, putting the flask in the sink and turning towards the back door of the staff room. Cautiously, Nnoitra reached out and touched his wrist, feeling the material of his white lap-coat, a hint of the soft white skin between it. Touching Szayel had been… an incredibly rare thing ever since…

"Hey, stay a little longer," he said it commandingly, as he said everything, though his tone was softer than normal. "It's been a while."

He tugged his arm out of his touch, eyes hardened and narrowed, "I have work to be getting along with."

"Err, what sort of thing?" It was sort of a dumb thing to ask; when they dated, he once leant over his lover's shoulder to peer at the documents on his desk. None of it made the slightest bit of sense; having barely passed his high school chemistry, it sort of blew his mind. But it might mean he stayed just a little longer…

"Not that it concerns you," he folded his arms across his chest, "But Aizen-sama wants me to test out a load of medicine from this series of research documents. It's all proof for his case against Ishida-san. It's quite fascinating actually, all of it is accurate and legitimate, but it's a brilliant compound, I'd never have thought of it myself."

There it was, the way his eyes would light up when he talked about his work. It was such an attractive quality, even if he wasn't much of a fighting man. Szayel was beautiful in a way nobody else ever had been before.

"Wow, you must have your hands full."

"Aizen-sama does want it all taken care of as soon as possible. I'd like longer to study it. Mayuri-san gave me my first job out of college. Though before the lawsuit, we were competitors in research. He worked heavily with Urahara-san, strangely enough; a lot of the theories seem like his old work."

"Suppose that happens when ya work a lot with the same person, ya learn from them and stuff."

"Quite," he looked back at him for the slightest moment, their eyes met, and then Szayel looked away, "I should be getting back to it. This research needs to be 100% proven safe and accurate before Aizen-sama can call upon it in court."

"Right," he stiffened up a little, "Of course… err… good luck."

Why did things have to be so awkward? At first he'd said sorry a lot, he kept saying it, but it meant so little in comparison to what he'd done. Szayel was angry, angry because he'd cared a lot, angry because the person he thought adored him had gone and slept with Luppi of all people. The last time he'd touched him, kissed him, on a bed in a hotel room on a business trip to Hong Kong with Aizen-sama; Szayel had stopped him, and he'd pushed him back and said it didn't feel the same anymore. It hurt to hear it, but that was the way it had to be.

"God, you look rough," Stark commented, leaning back and sipping his tea, "You're not over him, are you?"

Nnoitra shot him a look, "You're makin' me sound like a fucking woman."

"Trust me, it wasn't my intention," he closed his eyes, stretching his shoulders slightly, his neck made a sharp sound when he tilted it. "I'm just saying… it's a shame, he was good for you."

"Whatever."

People always said that. He was good for you. Nobody ever said the same thing in vice versa to Szayel, because that guy didn't need anyone. He was strong and passive regardless, he was calm about having his life's work taken away by court order, when they'd first met, and he was calm when his brother was shot in a gang fight. He just said, 'Oh' when Nnoitra told him he'd cheated on him. Tousen-san said something to him about it, he hadn't wanted the emotional reaction to get in the way of his work, and Szayel had laughed his calm clinical laugh and said, "Not at all, in fact it will give me a lot more time for my work."

If he hadn't seen him bleed, he was sure Szayel would have wires instead of blood.

"So what's this guy's name, Luppi-san?"

"Hirako Shinji."

"Hirako Shinji… like, the guy from Vizard?"

"Aizen-sama's Hirako Shinji?" he'd heard Stark mumble suddenly.

Nnoitra hadn't thought anything of it, until Stark jerked upright and spat out his orange juice like it had been replaced with urine or something. His eyes were wide and his face pale.

"Jesus Christ, man! You got your fucking juice on me!" he cried out-raged, then more so as Stark completely ignored him.

"Luppi-san, where did you say you met this guy?"

"Oh I knew you weren't listening!" he scowled, pouting, before smiling brightly again, "We've met a few times, just casually. To tell you a secret, he's visited me at work before."

Nnoitra didn't like the way he said visited… he glanced at Stark, who scribbled it in his notebook, the tiny thing he kept in his jacket pocket… it had a pink cover, as it had been bought as a gift from Stark's daughter, Lilinette who was ten-years-old and very dynamic in comparison to her father. Then without another word, the older man was walking out the back door, muttering something about having to see Aizen-sama.

Good God, what the fuck was that about?

"What the fuck was that about?" Luppi rolled his eyes, crossing his legs before saying happily to his small audience, "Anyway, he has the most amazing tongue! It's pierced and it can do all kinds of wonderful things!"

A few women blushed at his boldness, he noticed a few other people, mostly men, who really didn't need to hear, wincing and going quiet.

And on that uncomfortable moment, Tesla entered the office, his hands full, his back to everyone as he manoeuvred himself to shut the door behind him, calling in a singsong voice, "Hey Nnoitra-sama, I hope you're in the mood for cookies, because they were on special offer with the coffee!"

There were just some moments in life where a cheerful disposition wasn't anyone's bag.

After storming out and into his office, followed by an apologetic Tesla, he accepted the cookies, and coffee, and the documents he'd forgotten to pick up, but evidently, his assistant was prepared for this… and closed his door, sitting at his desk and firing up his laptop. At times he'd forget how lost he'd be without Tesla; the one week he'd had off, Nnoitra had been unprepared for everything… he'd overslept, he'd forgotten a client's name, he'd gone without all the drinks he wanted, and when he had them they weren't just the way he liked them. All of these things had put him in a horrible mood. He'd always remind himself of this when Stark would say pleadingly, "Can't I have him, Nnoitra, he's so brilliant!?" so he could respond with, "No, fuck off."

The difficulty with being alone in his office was that he was still incredibly bored by the case in front of him. When it was something interesting, he'd jump at the chance and have it done in hours… things like this seemed to drag on forever. It was enough to make a man cry. That and everything seemed to serve as a distraction to him. Days like this, with the rain outside, Grimmjow on his day off, and nothing better to do, he'd find himself thinking about Szayel.

First he'd think about when they were together, the teasing, playfulness, the sexual creativity, and the small but incredibly quirky things that made it the most meaningful relationship he'd ever had. It was the first time he'd liked someone so much, he'd been cautious of making a move. The first time his heart beat fast without being in combat, when Szayel reached over and placed a hand on his inner thigh, for the very first time and whispered, "I want you," in his ear.

It was a rush of emotion, a rush of touching and kissing, sucking and squeezing. They dated for three years, and in that time life just seemed to dance by them. A rush of kisses and firm hands, dirty games and whispers… God – and it ended the way it did. It wasn't like he was even unsatisfied with what he was getting… he didn't even know why, it was a temporary loss of control, almost animalistic… like two fucking dogs fucking in the dirt… not like people… nothing compared to Szayel. It meant fucking nothing but it ruined everything.

The main thing he remembered about the night before, were the drinks in front of him; bottles that varied in size, glasses (some made of glass, some of plastic) and a few shots. Although he couldn't remember having any, the taste of cigarettes was distinctive in his mouth.

Nnoitra rubbed his temples, irritated – what the hell had happened last night? This was definitely his bed, recognizable only because he could feel his gun under his pillow. His room was a mess; still wearing the t-shirt he'd gone out in, although the severe lack of pants… or anything else was worrying. He struggled to sit up; his knees pulled to his chest, an aching rush to the brain met him swiftly. When the room was once again, itself, the sound of someone in the shower became his biggest concern.

At first, it clicked – shower, lack of pants, Szayel must be staying over. Some random couldn't just break into your home and use the shower. His mother used to say it was the height of bad manners to use the shower at a stranger's home.

With his head returning to normal, Nnoitra smirked, getting out of bed, his mind all set towards an early morning fuck… until the stranger in the shower began to sing. Panic rushed through him like wildfire – someone was in his shower! There was an intruder in his apartment! His hand shot back under the pillow for his gun, eyes widening in horror as he noticed the head was… sticky, glistening with something – too agitated to stop and see what it was, he tossed it aside, instead grabbing a hold of the baseball bat propped against his desk.

Flashes of the previous night popped into his present memory like shooting stars, as he crept towards his bathroom. He could remember drinking… drinking one hell of a lot, Stark stood beside him pelting out song lyrics… Szayel telling him he was going home, shortly after arriving (which didn't surprise him, as the pink haired man never saw the point in getting drunk)… fighting in an alley-way with someone... singing and dancing in a club… an empty wallet, dancing around a pole on a stage to some American song.

A hot flush spread across his face as he remembered holding a head of silky soft short hair down against his crotch, rocking his hips forward to get his aching member into that hot sweet mouth – his other hand sweaty against the taxi window.

Shit! That was definitely not Szayel! His lover was all for kinky sex, in fact as far as fucking went he was filthy… But he knew it wasn't him. As he pushed the bathroom door open, the memory of his headboard banging against the wall, a thigh against his chest, his own hands holding a rather small foot against his shoulder, yelling out repeatedly at he pounded into a boy lying on his side – Shit – shit – shit! He wanted to cover his face… how the fuck was he going to tell Szayel? What was he going to tell him? And fucking hell… he didn't even know how his lover would react!

He couldn't face the stranger in the bathroom… Nnoitra turned his back, groaning; thinking about ringing Tesla, who would, as normal, know how to offer him some comfort. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Listen, I – " He spoke up, ready to tell the man from last night that he'd made a mistake… he was sorry… something like that. But then he recognized the grinning face that met him.

"Good morning, your showerhead is broken by the way," Luppi declared, stepping past him, just handing him a damp towel, and walking naked to where a small pile of clothes lay on the floor.

"Y-You!"

"Yes, me; who did you expect? Last night was really something by the way: Lucky, Szayel… or not."

He remembered feeling so consumed with fear and guilt at this point that he retaliated in the only way he really knew how: he'd gone crazy. He'd punched Luppi in the face; he'd got him on the floor and tried to strangle him, he'd been so angry he couldn't form complete sentences. And he could remember fucking everything! It was so dirty… he'd been so drunk and Luppi hadn't been, he could remember him saying he wasn't drinking tonight, to Stark, when he'd arrived late, because it would mess up his medication. He could remember that fucking voice in his ear, whispering, "Does it feel as good as your boyfriend? Bet it fucking doesn't." He fucked him in his bed, fucked him with his gun…

He wanted to be sick.

Luppi's face had been bloody, his eyes were all wide… he remembered letting go of him and screaming at him to get the fuck out.

What was worse was that fact that Luppi didn't really give a shit that he'd broken up a three-year long relationship. In fact there was a rough sort of glee in his eyes when he saw Szayel pass Nnoitra without even a glance in the corridor. The little bastard… they'd all warned Grimmjow, but that guy was always too much of a fucking hot head.

It was infuriating… before Szayel; he'd coupled how men are biologically meant to couple… casual sex with a lot of different people. Well, when he said a lot, he actually meant three … but nobody needed to know that. It wasn't like he got a lot of attention while his hormones were racing, at school he'd been the skinny weedy little kid who looked like he should be the class victim, but was remarkably stronger than he looked. Any sexual experience was purely coincidental. The only time he'd felt any real passion in the bedroom was during his gap year while he worked at a Fight Bar in the back streets. It was a good job, serving drinks and watching guys fight in 'The Cage', that was when he first saw Zaraki Kenpachi. That night was amazing, he'd watched him take on about 30 guys, he didn't get scratched, he'd didn't even fall down when they clonked him with the chair. He was massively tall and so crazy; he wasn't like the others, putting it on the line for quick hard cash, he was doing it because he loved fighting. He even laughed out loud when he got to take on three guys at once. Nnoitra got scolded about twelve times for ignoring customers and watching with wide eyes. It was the first time he got such a rush and wanted someone, not just to have sex, but to feel them. More than anything else, he wanted to fight him. It was an incredible and indescribable feeling. He'd waited until the others left and it was just Kenpachi Zaraki sat in the cage before he approached. They needed no words. They just fought. For the longest time, they were evenly matched, his punches were met and his desire for a worthy opponent purring in his chest. It was almost disappointing when Zaraki over-powered him, he'd jerked him down and kicked him in the stomach, then pinned him to the wall of the cage. There were no words between them, he wanted it, and Zaraki did too… perhaps it was conveyed as they fought or something. He'd never been taken by a guy before… and it was a bloody good place to start; gripping those big firm shoulders, legs locked at the ankles around his firm waist, letting out loud gasps and grunts of pleasure as those erratic thrusts drove him over the edge…

That was a long relationship in terms of what he'd had to compare it to back then. Two months of just sex, just training… it didn't even end badly. Zaraki was doing well for himself these days, training delinquent brats, had a kid of his own, a little girl.

He'd met Szayel for the first time when Aizen was working against him. That was in his early days at the firm, he'd watched over his Boss all the time, determined to be a good lawyer, feeling rather pissed off by Halibel who was higher ranked and on better pay… even as a PA. He'd watched the court case when Szayel was being stripped of his rights to his own work, some genetic experiments. Afterwards, he'd waited at the door and listened in with Stark, as the Boss asked Szayel to come and work for him instead.

It was the most compelling relationship he'd ever had… he'd wanted him all the time, sometimes not even to fuck him, just to look at him, talk to him, listen to his voice as he chattered away about… DNA or something. Every bit of him just made it harder to distance Nnoitra from what they had. It was painful to think something like Luppi had come between them.

This couldn't do… he was getting too fucking depressed… "Tesla!" he bellowed, banging his fist on the table, "Tesla, get your ass in here! I want you to get me another coffee!"

There was a pause, followed by a happy call of, "Right away, Nnoitra-sama!"

There were sometimes he felt fairly grateful that Kisuke liked him after all. He'd been stern with Renji as to the reason why Grimmjow beat him up… but he took his side, he was very caring. In fact, he woke up late the next morning and realized he was late for school… but then Tessai came in with a tray and breakfast, telling him to rest up. It was the best thing that could have ever happened to him, lying comfortably in bed, watching a DVD, thinking about the rest of them slaving away in school… Of course, it wasn't completely relaxing, as he kept worrying about Kira. Ichimaru-Sensei had been over at the house yesterday, he felt so riled up every time he saw that bastard! And Izuru was being so quiet about it… even when he had those love-bites on his neck… It pissed him off.

Worse than that, he'd been going through the paper when he saw an advertisement for a clothing range… and who would be modelling these over-priced garments… none other than Yumichika. That cocky bastard probably enjoyed having his face all over a page, he'd thrown the paper to one side and prayed the antics of Ultra Man would keep him from thinking about Izuru or Yumichika… or even Grimmjow. It wasn't exactly how most young men would spend their days off; Renji's day just seemed to skip past him. He'd just put on an episode of Power Rangers, considering going downstairs and seeing if he could get a snack… when the door opened and who should come in, but Uryu Ishida.

"Hey, never pinned you for the type to skip class."

"School ended twenty minutes ago, Renji," he said simply, taking a seat at his bedside, "I see your day has been productive."

He blushed a little, scrambling for his remote and switching off Power Rangers rather abruptly. "Whatever… don't talk bad to a sick man, Uryu? It's bad luck… Anyway, I didn't think you'd actually turn up to check on me. I mean, your dad asked you a favour."

Uryu rolled his eyes, "Do you really think I'm childish enough to not do something only because that man asked me too?"

"Err… not really."

It sucked – working at the hospital together had made them lose the sort of momentum they used to have. Perhaps it was that kiss that triggered him off… but now he'd get really weird and shy around fucking Ishida! The other day at school when their legs touched in assembly, Renji had gone all dark. Not only that, but the other night whilst masturbating… where his fantasies would vary from Ichigo sneaking into his room at night and under his covers, (which would probably be blocked from his head due to fear), Rangiku-san comforting him by letting him put his head in her chest… once he'd thought about Rukia wearing a tight black dress… which had scared him afterwards… more often than not, he'd think about Yumichika because it was easier to imagine, having actually happened. Anyway, the other night he'd been jerking off… and thought about Uryu.

"Anyway, how are you feeling?" he leant in a little closer, "Anything… unusual? Headaches, migraines, blurred vision? Anything like that, Renji-kun?"

He shifted nervously, feeling his cheeks darken considerably, "No… no, and no. I'm fine, just a little sore."

"You took quite the beating. I never got the full story… you were attacked by two guys?" Uryu asked dismissively, his hands elegantly folded on his lap, "One of them was Grimmjow-san, correct?"

"Err… yeah, that's right."

Uryu smirked, "So he was probably taking revenge for your conduct at my party?"

Now that was annoying… Renji shot him a glare, "What about you, Uryu? Has Daddy forgiven you for your… conduct at your party?"

The dark haired boy rolled his eyes, "You sound bitter about it."

"Well – well!" he protested, flustered, "Look what it did to my reputation! Now everyone thinks I have a thing for four-eyed sewing freaks."

"Nobody thinks that. And you could do a damn sight worse than 'four-eyed sewing freaks'."

"Like hell!"

Uryu pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, "It's probably an improvement. Everyone thought you were just shallow before."

"Nobody thinks I'm shallow!" He felt his ears burning, "How am I shallow?"

"Did you never notice that Ayasegawa-san is attractive, but he's about as warm-hearted as Antarctica?"

He shifted awkwardly in his chair, "Well, I suppose I… hey, that's not the point, knock it off, Uryu!"

"You were the one who began this feeble banter."

Renji sighed hard, leaning back in his chair, "There we go again. I gotta wonder if you even know how to relax, you're always on the offence, anyone even says something vague to you and you go off the handle."

Uryu went quiet, he shrugged his shoulders: "Well… it's not like you're any better."

He liked looking at the other from a distance, like their seats in class. Uryu sat just a little in front of him, in the next row. He was so slender, his hair cut short, giving just a little flash of the white skin on the back of his neck, before it met the collar of his school shirt. And he had the most slim, artistic fingers, the kind a fucking pianist has. Sometimes he'd look back to pass something over, paper, to Tatsuki, who sat behind him… and Renji would find himself watching those eyes, they were so damn blue… you didn't really notice because of his glasses, but once you did, they were always all you could notice.

God – why was this happening? He was getting sappy over Ishida?! Ishida – of all people!

"I bought this over too," he said suddenly, opening his bag and dumping a book on his lap, "Homework… Ichimaru-Sensei wants you to redo the essay on Hiroshima… and Kuchiki-san drew you up a card."

Upon opening the first page of the book, there was a card placed in, with a large Chappy the Rabbit drawn in what appeared to be highlighter pens… and crayon. He felt a soft smile come to his lips. Rukia could be fucking adorable.

"Thanks, Ishida."

"Yes…" he looked back suddenly, "And err… the Japanese didn't bomb Hiroshima… but you could have quite the career as one of those conspiracy writers."

He wasn't sure… but was that a joke? Did Ishida just try and make a joke? Renji let out a throaty chuckle, his lips drawn into a smile, "Oh, thanks, I guess."

Uryu's face had gone slightly pink. It was a very attractive look for him actually. Renji felt his ears burn with shame as his mind tracked back to the other night, imagining Uryu all flushed up, lying on his back on a dirty floor, wearing a fucking white bathrobe…

"Err, yeah, thanks for dropping this off, Ishida. I should be back in school real soon, okay? Most likely tomorrow."

"That's fine," he stood up suddenly, picking up his own bag, "I'll let you rest. Good luck with your recovery."

As the other boy whipped around the corner, Renji was sure he was blushing… he almost wanted to call him back before he left… His hand rose and touched his lips, his memories lingering back to that kiss. God… maybe Uryu had been thinking about it too. Maybe…

There was something incredibly right with his life. It had something to do with the huge billboard just across the street from his apartment block. Yes, a huge billboard with him on it! Irritatingly enough it was photograph taken by that dreadful Charlotte Cuuhlhourne, but it was a stroke of genius at that. The perfect sight to wake up too in the morning…

Unlike the day before… Yumichika had returned from his photo shoot to find Ikkaku sat on his doorstep looking rather cheerful. He'd asked him who died, and the younger man produced a huge tooth from his pocket, opened his mouth wide and gestured to a nasty looking hole where the tooth had been, whilst cheerfully saying, "Lookie!"

He'd nearly been sick.

It sort of killed the mood for anything. Ikkaku tried to kiss him and all he could think about was accidentally putting his tongue in that toothless hole. At times, Yumichika was a very immature sort of man.

But tonight was something different entirely. He'd come home to find three huge guys at his door. Naturally, being the narcissist he was, Yumichika wouldn't live just anywhere… so hoodlums at his door was hardly acceptable. For the slightest second he felt something run down his spine in fear… God, had he been discovered? Then rationality took over… who the hell had Ikkaku pissed off? They were really big guys too, one of them had long electric pink dreadlocks, and another with short spikes and a third was a skinhead with a nose piercing. They were simply repulsive men.

The skin-head looked up and saw him coming, he nudged the largest man, the one with dreadlocks; who nodded and called out, "Hey, are you Ayasegawa Yumichika?"

He wanted to say no…

"Who's asking?"

The spiky-haired man reached out and put his hand down at the door frame, "You're the princess fucking Madarame Ikkaku, aren't cha?"

How disgraceful… talking to him in such an unsightly manner.

"Oh, aren't we well informed?" Sarcasm around guys like that would make someone like Kira-kun pass out.

One of the men, the skinhead looked furious at that, leaning in to grab at him. But the larger man put a hand in front of him to break the distance between them.

"We want ya to give him a message, think you can handle that, faggot?"

"And what message would that be?" he asked icily.

"Tell him that Raavi's gang ain't happy with how he treated our leader. We intend to make him pay."

"Through you, if that's what it takes to get to him," the pierced man leant in, squeezing Yumichika's shoulder threateningly from behind him.

"Get your disgusting hands off me-!" He turned around and elbowed the man behind him hard in the stomach, knocking him back against the door frame.

The spiky haired man jerked a hand forward and took Yumichika's chin in his hand, "You know, he's as pretty as a girl. Hey, man, maybe we should put some bruises on the queer's face. To show Madarame we mean business."

The man with dreadlocks smirked, "You know, that ain't such a bad idea. What's the code to get into your front door?" he asked, addressing Yumichika, leaning his head down, gesturing to the access code needed to get in, as well as the key.

Yumichika glared at them, he reached into his pocket, clasping his key between two of his fingers as a makeshift knife, "My access code? Oh I don't think so."

"We weren't asking."

He felt a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing slightly; threateningly… the hand smelt dirty… like he'd never washed them… simply disgusting.

"Oh, in that case… the code is," he raised his hand, but the dread-locked man slapped it away.

"I'll type it in, pretty boy. You just stay there."

He remained silent for a moment, gathering himself together, stopping when the man squeezed the back of his neck a little tighter, "Well – get the fuck on with it!"

"Yeah," he straightened his back, "It's… 1 – 2…" he jerked the hand with the key upright, catching the dread-locked man across the face with the key, he saw a flash of red, hearing the skin rip, "FUCK YOU!"

The man holding his neck went to slam him forwards, but Yumichika slammed his foot against the side of the skinhead's ankle with enough force for a nasty clacking sound to be heard. The man yelled out in pain and toppled down against the door. He spun towards the spiky haired man who took a threatening lunge forwards, he dived onto the ground, rolling onto the floor, passing under him almost perfectly… the man's foot caught his ribs, before the pierced son of a bitch bashed against his door. Yumichika got to his feet, holding his side in pain, his fingers bleeding from how hard he'd been gripping his key.

"You little bitch!" The dread-locked man cursed, gripping the side of his bleeding face, "You and your faggot boyfriend are dead! You hear it, fucking dead!"

"Ayasegawa-kun, is something the matter?"

He looked up as he saw the dark skinned security guard stood in the hallway, his hand instinctively on the gun holster at his hip.

"No, I don't think so," he said, turning to stand beside him, "This trash was just leaving."

When he was young, too young to really, he liked to fight. He liked to kick things, he liked to win, he loved the adrenaline rush, he liked to use his fists until they ached and his knuckles were red. He liked fighting nearly as much as he liked photography… Anyway, on nights, he'd sneak out of his room and go find trouble in the streets; he'd wear a hockey mask, or a scarf around his face, always taking a little Stanley knife, or a gold club… sometimes a baton or a baseball bat. It was all pent up aggression; he never got into any real trouble. The only time he had, was when he was fifteen, around the time he started… dropping all this fighting shit. In his time, he'd broken his ankle, his toes, dislocated a shoulder, broken his arm, very, very nearly broken his nose (Thank God!), broken his fingers and his knee; he'd been bruised all over. He'd stopped all that shit, but he was still lonely. Yumichika couldn't relate to any of his classmates, after school he'd drive home with a woman in her twenties, a woman he'd probably call his best friend despite they'd spend hours just bitching at each other. Guys would ask him eagerly how he knew Rangiku-san, and he'd say, 'That old hag?' She was probably the only person who knew he used to go out and fight, when he broke his knee, he'd crawled back to her apartment. Sometimes when she was drunk she'd joke about Yumichika and a hockey mask, and he'd go completely pale if Ikkaku was around.

God, that was so long ago.

Ikkaku would be so pissed if he found out he was such a bloody hypocrite. Well, if today he'd learnt anything, it would be that Ikkaku had to fucking stop pissing off gang leaders, those guys had meant business. And, he could also fight in healed shoes, tight jeans and a designer feathered jacket.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

By Rob

The streets of Karakura were not the type of place one wished to be found late at night. It wasn't that they were particularly violent, dangerous or ugly, but merely that it was so easy to find trouble, especially when trouble was looking for you.

Sure, if you lived in the nice middle-class suburbs like Kurosaki-san or Inoue-san then you rarely found yourself at unease. Even the dead of night, no matter how you dressed or acted, you were safe, but if you ever strayed out of those nice, friendly middle-class streets and out into the real world . . . well, then you better watch out. The thieves never bothered with the richer parts of town, and no doubt those famous few like the Kuchiki family or the Shihoin, Kira or Shiba clans were always safe to walk freely because bodyguards often adorned their every move, but the working-class guys didn't have those same sorts of privileges. The few people who weren't lucky enough to be born rich had to follow rules to keep safe. They had to be home before dark, lock their homes up properly, and make sure not to start any trouble that they couldn't afford to get into. It also helped a lot if you had the skills at self-defence or attack that could get you out of trouble once you inevitable found yourself in it.

Yumichika couldn't pretend to understand why crime mostly happened in those few poorer areas, for surely it would make more sense to target the rich and beautiful, but perhaps it was simply easier to target the poor souls unable to fend for themselves. Whatever the reason for crime, Yumichika did not feel scared as people often assumed he should. He may have had a pretty enough face to make him perfect for sexual assaults, or enough money to make him a prime target for muggers, but that did not mean he had anything to fear. People always assume the pretty ones are the defenceless ones, but that is not the case! Yumichika knew for a fact that the prettiest people were often the strongest. Why, just ask any model! They needed to know how to fend off stalkers, how to defend against would-be-rapists, and to win in fights so that they didn't scratch their faces, because one mark to the face would ruin your career. They always assumed Yumichika was just like the rest of the models, a pretty face without the brains or brawn to be anything more than just a pretty face, and that was probably why Ikkaku had kicked up such a fuss when he'd learnt Yumichika had been involved in a fight. Really now! Didn't anyone think he could handle himself even just a little? It was so very insulting. If people didn't just assume things about him, didn't just think of him as weak because of his position and career, then they might just learn a thing or two themselves. Lord knew that Yumichika was probably a better fighter than any of Zaraki-Sensei's men, and it was just a shame he couldn't prove it. Still, there were better things in the world to think about than what such ruffians thought.

Yes, he could defend himself, but that was the problem . . . If Ikkaku ever found out that he was such a good fighter then his boyfriend would think of him as a hypocrite, a liar, or worse he would think of him as a threat to his masculinity! Ikkaku prided himself on his manhood, on being a defender of his friends and fellow pupils, and if he thought for one moment that his boyfriend – his looks obsessed, beautiful, model of a boyfriend – was better of a fighter . . . Surely he would feel weak, less of a man? Surely he would look at Yumichika with a whole new set of eyes, maybe leave him altogether? Cast him away as if he meant nothing at all?

Oh God! He didn't think he would be able to bear that at all. Shuhei had just been a few drunken moments of experimentation, Renji had been – well – a mistake, but Ikkaku -? Ikkaku was the man that he had loved, respected and wished to stand beside for a lifetime or more. It had taken him so long to find a man whom he could trust, honour and respect, that he could give his heart and loyalty to and not just his body, and to have that all thrown away because he let such a pathetic secret slip? If he had to keep his strength hidden in order to preserve his relationship then he would. He would do it because to do otherwise would be to lose the man he loved, the man who helped to give his life meaning. He could not bear another rejection, another loss, to be cast away and abandoned as if he meant nothing to anyone.

What would Zaraki-Sensei think too? Would he cast Yumichika aside, hate him and loathe him, no longer treat him with respect or as if he was one of his men? Would he lose the man whom had been like a mentor to him?

He could not help such heavy thoughts weighing upon him. It was of course very frustrating because he most certainly did not want to inflict worry lines onto his flawless features, but how could he not worry when those thugs and hoodlums from the week before were still out and about? All it would take was for just one – just one – to return and make trouble, and for Yumichika to instinctively throw one punch, and he'd lose it all. It'd be gone in a heartbeat. It would be his fault, of course it would, because he already had the potential to push Ikkaku away, he already had that fault deep inside of him, but to show his lover and to reveal the extent of that ugliness . . . it didn't bear thinking about. He couldn't fight, not if it meant feeling the weight of that black abyss as his lover left him, to stare into the face of darkness knowing he was all alone. He'd felt that way before Ikkaku, before even Renji, when all he had was simply Matsumoto and the hope for a future career. It was such an ugly feeling, to feel so alone and isolated, knowing that the only people you ever had claim to simply left you, and all for a fault you could not name. The only thing Yumichika could blame it on was himself. It was his fault that those he loved had left, and if he weren't careful his current friends and family would leave him too. He could not bear to add to the guilt and shame already upon his heart, because sooner or later such impure thoughts would mar his outer beauty, but he could not forget his past. To forget those pains would leave him open to committing the same mistakes again, to losing those people he loved again, and he would not lose Ikkaku. He would not.

He nearly jumped from his skin as Ikkaku suddenly placed a hand upon his shoulder. It was strange, but he'd been so consumed by his fears that the only sound he'd been able to hear was the beating drum of his own heart. He hadn't even noticed Ikkaku struggling to keep up with his fact pace, or shooting discreet looks at him as he gnawed upon his plump lip. Had he really been that wrapped up in his own mind?

"Yo, Yumi? What's eating you?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing! Nothing!" Yumichika replied. He gave a sweet smile as he gazed upwards to the shining moon, admiring its silvery glow as it cast light down upon the earth's soft surface. "I was just thinking about some things, that's all. Silly things really, nothing that I should have concerned myself over."

Ikkaku obviously didn't buy his act.

He removed his hand from Yumi's shoulder and instead gripped one side of his wooden, practise sword, and held it behind his head in a rather casual manner. It was then he glanced sideways to Yumichika without moving his head.

"Really?"

"Oh, don't be so silly, Ikkaku! You know if something were bothering me I'd tell you in an instant. I just don't want you adding any wrinkles to that handsome face of yours over concerns that aren't really that important."

"If they weren't important then you wouldn't have any issues with telling me."

Yumichika tried his best not to sigh, for to sigh was so unmanly and common, it wasn't exactly a dignified way to express his frustration. Instead he merely brushed a hand through his dark locks and closed his eyes for one brief, serene moment in time, taking the time to enjoy the feeling of the soft breeze on his pale skin, and the way the moonlight almost felt cool on his features. If it weren't for the worry of those hoodlums returning it would have been the most splendid of nights. Already he had the most picturesque image of making love to Ikkaku underneath the open window, looking up into his dark eyes as the moonlight hit them at the moment of utmost pleasure. Ah! It'd make the most beautiful photograph! Ikkaku was so jealous before over Hisagi's photo, maybe he could persuade Ikkaku to participate in a little photo shoot of his own?

"Yo! Yumi! Quit daydreaming, will you? We're almost home. If Zaraki-Sensei's awake he won't be happy if we stumble in and you look drunk, not when I've been banned from Matsumoto's Bar."

"Oh, like that stops you from visiting!"

Ikkaku gave a sound that seemed halfway between a snort of irritation and a laugh, and then turned his gaze down the street towards Zaraki's boarding house, the house attached to the main dojo where only the most troublesome students lived. If Ikkaku hadn't had been such a pain a few weeks ago then they would have been home by now, as the dormitory for trustworthy students was literally only a few feet to their right, but if Ikkaku kept behaving as he did he'd hopefully have his old room back in no time. Until then the extra five minute walk wouldn't do them any harm. Indeed the walk was quite like perfection, wandering underneath the large sakura trees, picturing the scent and sight of how they would appear in bloom, and enjoying the soft sound of music trailing down from one of the student's bedrooms, something like enka. It was these beautiful moments in time that he lived for, enjoying them more than he enjoyed the flash of the camera or the visions of beauty on paper. He loved Ikkaku dearly, and he loved simply spending time with him. He could not ask for anything more.

He would have thought that their earlier trip to Rangiku's would have dampened his mood, but it hadn't. They'd had to bribe Rangiku not to call Zaraki-Sensei the moment she set eyes on Ikkaku, and of course he couldn't claim seeing Renji again was the highlight of his day, but ultimately seeing the 'old gang' and the 'new' had raised his spirits.

It seemed that everyone had showed up at Matsumoto's Bar that night. In the far corner Ikkaku had seen a few of his teachers, even pointing two out to be friends of Zaraki-Sensei's, it seemed that one of the trio had recovered from quite a severe illness and so the three were out to celebrate. There was a bickering couple sat next to them, and a very stoic looking woman who would have been pretty were it not for her librarian demeanour and attire, and it seemed as if the group were truly enjoying themselves. Of course the last thing Ikkaku wanted was to be spotted by Kyoraku-Sensei and Ichimaru-Sensei, and so they'd quickly paid Rangiku and headed into the private room. The private room wasn't anything special, but it meant that groups of individuals could be alone away from the rest of the customers, and Ikkaku's friends had thought it would be a good idea to all chip in some money and rent the room for the evening. If Yumichika were to be honest they'd chosen this room solely because most of the group were minors, and none of them particularly wanted to be discovered by a teacher or a parent. Indeed, spending his evening with a group of children seemed so dull when he first considered it, but in the end he had been quite happy that Ikkaku had chosen to invite him along.

There had been an awkward atmosphere at first, but before long Ikkaku appeared to make amends with Renji, and the two were catching up on life events as if they had never had that period of estrangement. Iba of course handed out as much alcohol as possible, considering he drank more than his fair share. Shuhei had also decided to tag along and seemed busy trying to get Kira as inebriated as possible, and of course soon regretted that when Kira lost all sense of personal space, which was only made worse each time Rangiku entered to check upon them . . . The woman seemed to know exactly how to make Shuhei and Kira lose control, and soon they were taking the most insane bets and causing quite a ruckus. Ichigo of course seemed content brooding in a far corner, looking rather grim and making Yumichika wonder why his teal-haired lover hadn't come along also. Then of course there was Inoue-san and Ishida-san bonding over fashion, and the one they called 'Chad' sitting beside Ichigo as he refused to touch a drop of alcohol, and that thing that they called 'Ganju'. Disgusting! That man was the only thing to spoil his evening. What right did a man so ugly have to feel that it was acceptable to speak to a man like Yumichika? If he ever saw that man again it would be too soon! Still, it had been nice for everyone to reconcile and to bond, to see everyone laugh and to smile, and it had been nice to feel a sense that he truly belonged somewhere. It was a feeling he very rarely had. There were moment when Zaraki's men would invite him to parties, but he often found himself sitting elegantly to one side, sipping tea whilst the other became wild. He never truly belonged there, but here – here for one small moment – he could pretend that he did. Of course if Zaraki-Sensei were to find out where they'd been there would be hell to pay, but providing they stuck to the story that Ikkaku had been studying with some friends then they'd be fine.

"Hey, do you think everyone got home okay?"

Yumichika looked at his lover with a curious expression. It wasn't like Ikkaku to show such concern, especially not when he was loaded on sake and carrying his practise sword. It was a question he hadn't expected at all. His only explanation was that perhaps Ikkaku feared this gang would attack his friends next, having been scared away from attacking his boyfriend. If that was the case then it was quite chivalrous and responsible of Ikkaku to show such concern, but the likelihood was that the gang would simply bide their time and return to get Yumichika at a later date, and frankly they both knew that. It was wishful thinking to think otherwise, to assume that the gang wouldn't return to cause Yumichika trouble.

"Oh, I'm sure they got home just fine!" Yumichika said with a bright smile. "After all Rangiku was smart enough not to serve us any alcohol, she enjoys her license too much to risk it serving booze to the likes of you on a night she could get caught. Plus Lord knows that the alcohol you, Iba, Renji and Ganju brought wasn't even enough to make a man like Zaraki-Sensei lose his bearings! Face it, we're all sober enough to be responsible, and everyone left in groups, any one who wanted to start trouble would have to be insane to start something!"

"Yeah, well what about Inoue-san, or Ishida-san, or that Kira kid that tagged along? You think any of those can handle themselves? Shit, Yumi, that Kira kid was probably the one most drunk out the whole lot."

"Yes, and Renji was sweet enough to walk Ishida-san back to his apartment, and Inoue-san was picked up by her friend who I'm told is an expert at martial arts, as for Kira-kun I'm sure that Hisagi offered to take him home. Why, Ichimaru-Sensei was even kind enough to offer to visit Kira-kun within the hour to make sure he got home safely. You have nothing to worry about, Ikkaku!"

"Maybe you're right . . ."

They'd finally reached the main dojo. There were several lights still on in the upper floors, indicating that several students were still awake, and in the main training hall itself the sounds of grunts and taunts could be heard loudly, where no doubt Zaraki was beating as much knowledge as he could into his young charges, before retiring for the night. Yumichika was quite thankful Zaraki-Sensei was still up, the front doors were always locked from eleven until six, and the students were not given keys so as to prevent them from coming and going as they pleased. The few who missed curfew, came back too late, and then woke Sensei up, being that he was one of the rare few with an actual key . . . well, they tended to find themselves beat pretty bad in morning's training, usually ending up being sent to Kurosaki Clinic with injuries. If Zaraki had been asleep it would have meant a rather annoying walk back to Yumichika's apartment, where his doorman with the illegal gun would have tried to keep them talking for far too long than necessary. Thankfully Sensei was still awake.

Whilst Ikkaku hammered hard on the door, screaming loudly for someone to let him inside, Yumichika took a moment to look properly at his surroundings. It truly was a beautiful night out tonight. Despite the harsh lights of Karakura town he could still see the twinkle of stars high above him, and with each exhale he could see his own private cloud of breath reaching out before him. The glow of the moon seemed to give an ethereal nature to the view, making the trees glisten and shimmer like molten silver as the slow breeze blew through them, and in the distance he could see the sight of people walking to and fro. In fact not too far ahead he could see Hisagi-san, fanning poor Kira-kun's face as his friend sat on the floor too drunk to move, and no doubt he'd probably stumble into Zaraki's in a few minutes time to ask if Sensei could call someone to collect them both. Ah, to be young again! Yumichika didn't think he could remember a time like that, when he couldn't hold his liquor and was forced to rely on his friend's to help him out as he passed out in the streets. Overall it seemed like a typical night . . . that was except for the man who seemed to be standing at the far end of the street, suspiciously watching Ikkaku and himself.

How had he not noticed that man before? He was clearly one of the gang that had attacked him in the previous week, except the idiot had thought that donning black clothing would make him invisible. He stood there with that idiotic haircut and hideous smile, just watching Yumichika in a very obvious manner, before nodding in the opposite direction. Of course he turned to see what this man was staring at, and it was most certainly not good. On the opposite side of the street, far away from the first man, were four or so burly men, each looking like they had a bone to pick with Yumichika, and two even carrying very noticeable weapons. So far they were merely standing still, and that was good. The moment they made a move it would be to go in for the kill, and there was no way that Ikkaku could take them all on his own, and Yumichika certainly didn't wish to get involved any more than he would have to. No, so long as they stayed where they were those men wouldn't pose a problem, and hopefully Zaraki-Sensei would soon get to the door and let them in . . .

"Yo! Sensei! Open the door, will you? We can't get in!"

Yumichika bit his lip nervously as he watched the men beginning to walk towards them at a slow and steady pace, whilst Ikkaku remained completely oblivious to their oncoming approach. He continued to bang away on the doors, not realising they were slowly being ambushed, and the only response from behind the door was a little, girlish giggle and a jiggle of keys.

'Aw, no can do, Baldy! Kenny says I have to leave you outside for a while, because you did a bad thing by coming home late!'

"Yachiru, I mean it, open this door at once or I'll -!"

"I believe we have bigger problems here, Ikkaku."

Ikkaku stopped for a moment and followed his boyfriend's gaze. At once he caught sight of about five youths coming closer, they were spread out enough to make escaping in that direction impossible, and the fact they were carrying weapons was more than obvious at that point. It was possible to take on an entire group if they were weaponless, but when at least three were carrying knives that made taking them on pretty damned hard, or at least when you had to protect the guy behind you whilst fighting . . . Shit! If only Yumichika had learnt how to fight, he'd be one less distraction and one more man on his side to fight; it would have made taking those guys out a hell of a lot easier. Still, he could take them, he knew he could, it was just a matter of getting them away from Yumichika and waiting for Zaraki-Sensei to figure out what was going on and send back-up.

The guy furthest to the left was touching the main street, the street dead opposite Zaraki's academy, which meant running that way was out of the question, not unless he wanted to get Kira and Hisagi involved. The guy furthest to the right was on the pavement for the road that headed into the parkland, literally leaning against the wall to the dojo, but the street in that direction was deserted behind the gang, and considering how Ikkaku often trained with the guys up there he knew the parkland and the streets like the back of his hand. The only place the hoodlums didn't have cornered was the road directly behind them, the one that led right into the heart of Karakura's residential district, which would have been the perfect place to run if one wanted to get away and get help. Right, the best way to do this would be to get Yumi far away and lead the goons off into the park, that way he could kick their ass and hold them off until some of the other members of the academy arrived. That way Yumi would be safe, and Hisagi and Kira didn't need to get involved.

"Yumi, you head that way, I'll fend these guys off whilst you make a run for the dorms down the road." Ikkaku gave a devilish smirk as he threw out his arm and pointed his kendo sword directly at the gang. "I'll make a run past these guys and lead them into the park, Zaraki will know where to find me and send some back-up. Get going. Stay in the dormitory until it's safe, you got that?"

"Ikkaku, no!"

His words didn't do any good, although he couldn't really say he expected them to. Ikkaku had already made a sharp run for it. He was quick on his feet and showy in his movements, and it didn't take long at all before the gang all had their eyes on him. He managed to get a few good hits on the men with his kendo sword, cutting two of the men profusely above their eyes, and bruising one guy's arm mad enough that it caused him to howl out in pain. It was then that he did what Yumichika considered a rather cute dance, although he was sure Ikkaku would call the 'lucky dance' manly, before making a mad dash between two of the men and heading straight into the park. Of course the whole gang followed at once, leaving Yumichika alone by the doors to the main dojo, where he could hear Yachiru bickering with Zaraki.

He had to admit that Ikkaku's tactics would have worked very well . . . if it weren't for the fact that the idiot hadn't taken a good look at his surroundings, and forgotten the lone man standing along the street behind Yumichika. It was just a very good thing that he had brains as well as beauty because, if he had followed Ikkaku's advice and backtracked to the dormitory down the road, then he would have ran right into the arms of the lone gangster with a knife. Luckily he had nothing to fear. He could defend himself pretty well, and it sounded as if Zaraki was getting some men together to head out and stop the commotion before it escalated into something dangerous.

Really, what idiots would cause a ruckus outside of the main dormitory of one of the world's best martial arts facilities and academies? It was just plain suicide. He hoped that if anything these hooligans would learn a valuable lesson from the beating they were no doubt about to receive, it would serve them right if they did. How dare they disrupt the beauty of his surroundings only to cause an ugly scene?

He turned his head quickly to assess the situation. If he was lucky he might be able to stay where he was and avoid the guy entirely, or if the guy did reach him before Zaraki got the damned door open maybe he could fend him off with a few simple moves? At least that way no one had to be any wiser about his fighting skills. The problem was no matter where he looked the guy from before was nowhere to be seen, which was odd considering the damned fool made his presence so obvious and pointed out his friends to Yumichika. He rolled his eyes and realised that the man was obviously too chicken to go up against someone on his own, and had probably backed out and ran away somewhere, it wasn't unusual behaviour for those types of me, but it truly irked him. Why start a fight unless you were willing to go through with it? It was such ugly decorum to be so rude, to start something that you were not willing to finish, and if he ever caught sight of that guy again he'd be sure to finish it for good.

Up ahead he could see Kira and Hisagi still loitering about. Poor Kira-kun was still sitting hunched on the floor, looking as if he was ready to vomit, and Hisagi was standing over him on the phone looking more than a little pissed off. Ah, it was never any fun when you go to a party and get stuck babysitting the lightweight, and by the sounds of it Hisagi was busy talking on the phone too, probably trying to arrange a lift from somebody as he tried to stop Kira from puking too much. Yumichika could only make out the odd word but Hisagi sounded rather annoyed and informal, he must have been speaking to his boyfriend or to Kira's, because if he were to speak to anyone else in that tone at three in the morning then they'd be less than pleased. It was about that time when Zaraki finally managed to unlock the door and around twenty of his pupils ran out, chasing down Ikkaku in the park to help out their fellow student, with Yachiru in the lead . . .

He could hear Zaraki grunting out a few questions, but before he could turn to answer he finally caught sight of the man from earlier, the one who was carrying such an obvious and large knife, the one who saw Yumichika and motioned to his goons behind him. His presence wasn't what forced Yumichika into action though; it was the fact that he was standing in the bushes at the street corner, directly behind Kira-kun with the knife raised. His eyes weren't upon Kira however, but on Yumichika, and he was laughing, clearly laughing! Kira was still kneeled over on the floor, Hisagi with his back to him as he argued with someone on the phone, looking around for street signs, and the guy was stepping closer, raising the knife higher . . .

Damn it, if he didn't make a dash for it now he wouldn't get there in time! If he shouted Hisagi then the guy would act and Hisagi wouldn't have time to defend Kira! He was going to have to risk it, he was going to have to run and tackle the guy himself, stop him from hurting those who had nothing to do with the situation at hand. Oh, this was all Ikkaku's fault! Why that idiot had to get involved with street fights in the first place was beyond Yumichika!

"Hey, Yumichika, I'm talking t' you."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I have to go!"

"Huh? Hey, wait!"

Yumichika didn't think twice as he ran across the road, thankful that at this time of night no drivers thought to drive along the T-junction. It had been a long time since he had needed to run so fast, his actual speed had in fact shocked him at first and his initial take off almost had him stumbling, but despite how foreign the exercise was to him it felt almost like a second nature. It felt good to move those muscles so unused to such physical exertion, to feel like he was moving at maximum speed and yet with a slight push to break past that, to achieve a speed that didn't seem possible, to move in a flash. It had been so long since he had felt the wind against his face, or had the adrenaline rush in his bloodstream that forced him to move past points of exertion. It was a feeling that reminded him he was alive, that reminded him of his very strength, and he relished that feeling, and he revelled in it. It was almost enough to make him regret turning away from the life of fights, making him wish he'd enrolled at Zaraki's academy, even if it was just for night classes a few days each week. There really was nothing like the thrill of a fight.

It felt like a mere second to move from his position by the academy doors to reach the man that waited behind Kira-kun, and perhaps it was. Time – after all – didn't really have meaning when your very heart was beating faster than you could count, when your very reason for existence was solely for the moment. At that point in time he didn't think or care about anything except severely hurting the guy threatening the life of his friend's companion. Kira was innocent in all of this, and he certainly couldn't defend himself, what right had someone to threaten to attack him? That man had no right to threaten Kira in such an ugly manner, no right at all! If Yumichika had to put a stop to that then he damn right would! It was unthinkable to attack a defenceless man when his back was turned, it was the height of cowardice, and it was unthinkable what man could possibly defend such a stance.

All Yumichika knew was that one minute Zaraki had been asking him questions, the next he had tackled the man at a running speed and had him pinned harshly against the rough bark of a tree. He ignored the cries of Hisagi as he tried to analyse the situation, albeit reacting far too slowly, and ignored the fearful scream of Kira as he tried to run backwards away from the would-be stabber. The only thing Yumichika concentrated on was knocking this jerk out and breaking every bone he possessed.

Within seconds the guy had pushed Yumichika back and took a swing at him with the knife, but his sharp reflexes enabled him to pull back seconds before the metal would have collided with his face. He responded quickly by grabbing the guy's wrist and locking his arm completely, spinning him around as he pinned him chest first against the bark of the tree. The guy struggled but it didn't do him any good. Yumichika tightened his grip on the guy's wrist and forced him to drop the knife, then with a quick movement of his right hand touched a nerve upon the man's neck and instantly knocked him unconscious. He quickly scooped up the guy in his arms before he fell and dropped him hard onto the pavement. No doubt the police would soon arrive and when they did they'd have evidence enough to arrest the ugly scoundrel, after all carrying a knife would mean at least a few years served in jail. At the moment however his primary concern was to make sure Ikkaku was alive and well, all else could wait, even the impertinence of such a street hoodlum. It wasn't until he looked up and saw the slightly shocked expressions of Hisagi, Kira and Zaraki that he realised just exactly what he'd done.

"Ah, I can explain! You see, what happened was -!"

"Forget it," Zaraki snapped, "You three get inside, and I'll wait here for the cops to show. I'll call Gin to come pick you up whilst I wait, Kira."

Yumichika followed the order without question. He had a feeling he'd done more than enough to invoke Zaraki's rage, and he certainly didn't want to risk his ire any more by disobeying a direct order . . . He could only hope that at the very least Sensei hadn't seen his skills and that he could still hide the extent of his abilities, otherwise he may well have to say goodbye to Ikkaku, and that would be more than he was able to bear . . . Still, what choice did he have? He had to save Kira's life, didn't he?

The only thing stopping him from kicking that narcissistic, effeminate, loudmouthed bastard's ass was the fact that over the years he'd grown somewhat . . . affectionate of the guy. He wouldn't go so far as to say he liked him, but he'd definitely gotten used to having a part-time babysitter for Yachiru and having someone around to knock some sense into Ikkaku.

Yumichika was kind of like that guy, you know? He was like the kid in class that you always depend on for the answer and pass notes to in order to kill time, it's not that you like the kid but you share a common bond and keep each other sane for an hour each week. If he died or something you wouldn't be sad, but you'd sure as hell be a lot more bored in lessons. Zaraki appreciated Yumichika. He appreciated his help around the dojo, how he'd watch Yachiru without any complaint, and how he kept his top student happy whilst keeping him out of trouble. He admired the guy's ruthless ambition, his desire to excel himself every time he attempted something, and most of all he admired his loyalty to the men. He was a good kid. It didn't mean Zaraki was going to throw freaking birthday parties for him or adopt him into his family, but nevertheless there was some feeling there. Heh, it was possible that had they more in common they'd have been a lot closer, but as it was they were somewhat distant, and Zaraki was willing to admit that. He respected Yumichika, Yumichika respected him, but seriously, how much can a forty-five-year-old father in charge of a kendo academy have in common with a nineteen-year-old, air-headed photographer slash model? There was a limit to how close they were going to be. After all, could anyone honestly say that Zaraki was the sort to talk make-up and boys, or Yumichika the finer points of battle strategy? He doubted it. Still, despite their distance he'd some respect for the guy, just some, and this –? This was like something no words could truly capture. Maybe someone like Byakuya or Kyoraku would be able to name what it was he felt, but he sure as hell couldn't.

What pissed him off the most was that maybe – just maybe – if that little shit had just been honest and open about his abilities, they would have been all the closer. Don't get it wrong, it wasn't like he wanted to have a new drinking buddy or hang out on his days off, after all he had Kyoraku, Ichimaru and Matsumoto for that, but it would have sure as hell been nice to have someone new to spar with. Who knew, maybe it would have actually made Zaraki respect the guy more knowing that he wasn't just some pussy but could actually defend himself; that he could actually fight like a man!

Ha! That Yumichika had been holding out on him! He actually had skills, talent, and he would have made an excellent addition to his team! With a man that strong on the kendo team Zaraki's men would have no trouble winning, and it'd have been fun training a new recruit, and his men could have learnt something in return too! Who knew that underneath those stupid feathered accessories, or that neatly styled hair, or those ridiculously over-the-top clothes, there lay the heart of a warrior? If it was the very last thing he did he'd make sure that brat signed up for the kendo team, even if it was just for a few lessons a week, because the men could sure use a guy like that. If he did convince Yumichika to join he might even be able to convince Byakuya to spend some time at the dojo, after all he was a pretty boy too, he might just appreciate seeing someone all stuck-up like him actually being able to defend himself. What would someone like Yumichika call it -? 'Combing a sense of the aesthetics with brute strength'? Bah, he didn't know what something like that meant but he knew it didn't matter; all that mattered was getting that bastard onto his team! How dare that little punk hold out on him all these years? If it weren't for Ikkaku he would have eviscerated that jackass by now!

Granted, that it seemed Yumichika's skills varied from his men. He didn't go for direct attacks but instead preferred subtler approaches, such as rapid evasion and fast agility, combined with a perfect knowledge of the nervous system (seeing as how he'd managed to knock that guy out by literally touching a nerve, using the pain as a way to disable him). He'd instinctively known how to move and to where, and he'd even known how to lock his opponent's arm and had the strength to lift him up afterwards too. His men could learn from that. Likewise, he knew that Yumichika could learn a lot from his men too.

Huh. It was weird, but suddenly he actually had a whole new level of respect for Yumichika, a level of respect that shouldn't have been possible to have for a guy like that. He really couldn't wait to tell Ikkaku about this recent change of events, it really would make for a very interesting night, and it'd also make for a good story to tell Byakuya on his date tomorrow.

Over in the main training hall he could hear the men complaining about how easy the fight had been, whilst others yawned and headed off for a well-deserved sleep. The few students closest to the door included Ikkaku, who could only complain loudly that the police had to get involved. It seemed the kid was just annoyed his fight was cut short before any damage could be inflicted, but Zaraki was just plain proud he'd followed orders and stayed out of trouble, not causing any more damage than was needed and stuck to self-defence. It meant that Ikkaku was becoming a man who could be trusted, that he was learning what it really meant to be a fighter, and it meant that he'd done the right thing by following his gut and keeping a close eye on the kid. Still, was it wrong that he hoped the hoodlum gang wouldn't get jail time? Part of him was just aching for them to come after his students again, just so he could have the pleasure of ripping them limb from limb all to himself! If those bastards ever crossed him in the future he'd make sure they'd never forget his name, he'd make them pay.

He couldn't help but watch his students as they gossiped amongst themselves. He'd found himself a cosy enough spot in the centre of one of the main corridors, it branched off the main dojo and led into the offices, not that the offices ever got used much but he'd found it a good place to stash Yumichika and the two brats he was with. Any thing that was confidential was locked up tight in filing cabinets, or – as some of his more technological students and staff assured him – in password encrypted computer files. The phone in that particularly office could only ring internally, so the only places reachable were the several training areas on the ground floor, and the dormitories on the floors above. He couldn't see any harm in stashing them away in the office, and if they caused any trouble he could knock them out in a heartbeat anyway, not that they dared to cause any trouble.

Yumichika and the guy with the scars on his face were both very nearly legally adults, and so he could have probably just sent them on their way, but he wanted a word with Yumichika and the other guy apparently had already called his boyfriend to pick him up. The blond-haired kid he'd been introduced to a few days before. It was Kira, Gin's new little toy, and so he hadn't much choice there but to wait for Gin to arrive to take little Kira-kun home. Oh, what a good teacher he was. Still, so long as Gin didn't tease him over dating the ice princess Byakuya, he weren't going to tease Gin over falling in love with a student. Although it was already around six o'clock, it did make him wonder how that bloody kid was going to make it to school, especially considering how he was still drunk as Rangiku on her nights off. He could guarantee Ikkaku would show, because the brat knew if he didn't Zaraki would drag him to school like last time, but as for Kira and whoever else showed up to the party . . . Heh, it wasn't his problem, although he'd have thought the damned brats would have saved their partying for tomorrow, whoever heard of a 'Thursday night out' getting wasted?

Still, on the bright side today was officially the start of Friday, even if Zaraki hadn't 'officially' ended Thursday with a good night's sleep or even a few hours of sleep, and in an hour or two ninety-percent of his students would be headed to school. If he was lucky he'd be able to catch a few hours by pawning Yachiru off onto that Maki-Maki fellow, and it's not as if Gin could keep him talking for hours on end, what with teaching classes on all. Hopefully today would be pretty easy to deal with.

It was then he heard the distinct sound of footsteps heading into the corridor.

The sound was slightly overpowered by the rush of his students' feet as they ran to their dorms, most in an attempt to get ready for school before the bell, and the rest probably to grab a hot shower before the water ran out or Yachiru purposely started flushing the toilets to hurry them up. In retrospect he should have found it odd that the entire group of students were kept riveted in the hall, only to all disappear at the exact same moment, but truthfully he didn't think anyone would have expected what had happened. On the other hand maybe he should have expected it, but in his defence there was only so much a man of his age could take, and he couldn't be faulted for not being alert when he hadn't slept in over a day.

He turned his head only to catch sight of a rather attractive young woman in her thirties. Her blonde-brown hair cascaded over her back in a bouncy and wavy manner, and her blue eyes shone like sapphires on porcelain skin, complete with one beauty spot just under her plump lips. Everything about her screamed 'sex appeal', right down to her huge bosom that was far too large to be real, and her perfect height and slim waist. Her clothes were the latest fashion too, and her dress was probably verging on 'too short', if there was such a thing. All in all it was enough to make Zaraki's mouth water and, if it weren't for their close relationship or the fact he wanted Kuchiki so badly, he probably would have hit on her the moment he set eyes on her.

"What do you want, Rangiku?" He said gruffly.

"Aw, come on now, Zaraki-sensei!" Her voice was as high and singsong as always, lively and full of emotion, and when she spoke she even gave a little jump that made her breasts bounce in the most seductive of ways. "I come all this way and that's the greeting I get? It's enough to make a girl cry!"

"We both know it'd take a lot more than that to make you cry. What do you want? Don't you have a bar to run?"

"At six in the morning? My, even I don't drink that early!"

He gave a little snort of amusement and turned his head to look at her properly.

Frankly she had no reason to be here; she'd already obviously distracted his men, judging from how the moment she left the room so did they, and to his knowledge she had little to no fighting ability either. Heh, what good was someone who couldn't fight? She might look pretty and have a personality to match, but unless she could kick some ass then she wasn't worth his time. Yeah, she was pretty popular and he knew that. Gin was her childhood friend and always dropping by to annoy her, and Kyoraku was probably her best drinking buddy (although granted everyone was a drinking buddy to that drunk), and even Yumichika somehow found her company enjoyable, but what did they know? They were the kind of guys who only cared about fun and games, who manipulated people for fun, who drank when they should have been working, and who preened in front of a mirror rather than doing anything of importance. Sure she was hot, and maybe if it wouldn't have been so weird he might have had a go at that long ago, but he couldn't respect her. Unless she could best him or his men in a fight what was there to respect?

Still, what he really wanted to know was why she was here. Usually she opened the bar around midday and closed at about midnight, excepting nights when clients wanted to party and paid her to keep the bar open until late. She was also rushed off her feet dealing with Toshiro's education and well being, as well as lazy as hell and unwilling to get out of bed until around at least half-twelve, by which point an employee had already opened the bar for her. Ukitake's party had finished around three, he knew because that's when Ikkaku started hammering the door to get in, and that's when Kyoraku sent drunken texts that he was certain had been meant for Ukitake, or at least he hoped so. By all rights the little vixen should have been fast asleep or at least wrapped up in bed fighting off a hangover, instead she was lurking about his corridors with her breasts practically falling out of her top, distracting his men. Luckily Yachiru was asleep. He really didn't want her getting any ideas about Rangiku's behaviour being normal, she was a troublesome enough kid as it was, he didn't want her to grow into her teenage years drinking like a fish and flashing people for fun. Well, not when they lived in a building comprised solely of teenage and young adult men at least.

"I'm not going to ask you again, Rangiku. Why are you here? You might want to answer me this time before I really get pissed off."

"Oh, don't spoil my fun! Here I am, visiting one of my most favourite people, and you make me feel all bad and guilty! Why, you should be ashamed of yourself! What kind of man makes a poor woman feel bad?"

The little pout she gave would have been adorable on a woman half her age; instead it just looked like a failed attempt at manipulation. True, she looked pretty hot with her lips pursed, her arms at her sides pushing her ample breasts to the forefront, and gnawing girlishly upon her lip, but in the mood Zaraki was in he couldn't care less. Right then he wasn't in the mood for ogling pretty women, all he wanted was to get those two idiots out his office and lay into Yumichika, maybe even spar with the guy and test his power out for himself. Besides, he knew full well he hadn't really hurt Rangiku. Nothing ever hurt that woman, except Gin's random disappearances and that Kira kid's temper tantrums.

It was then he gave a little jump and smiled brightly, her cheeks flushed red slightly and her air whipping out with her movements. She even shrugged her shoulders a little and cocked her head to the side . . . No wonder his men had been so distracted, she was like a walking wet dream.

"If you must know, Zaraki-Sensei, I'm here on behalf of Gin! Although I would have came anyway to see your handsome face," she winked and pointed to no particular direction. "See, poor Gin got the message, but it seems he's been busy with some urgent work. That mean, old Aizen-sama had some emergency crop up, so he's made poor Gin and Tousen-san go into work to help him out! Oh, I'm sure they have some incentive, but really! Poor Gin only just got off, and now he has to head straight to school, it's not fair! That man really does work them to the bone!"

"He can't be working them too hard considering Gin's got tonight off."

"Ooh! I heard all about his plans with little Kira-kun! In fact that's why he sent me, someone's got to pick the cute, little guy up after all! It's a shame his parents are on another business trip, but you know what they say, 'when the cat's away'!"

"'The fox comes out to play'? Listen, if you want that Kira kid that hurry up and get him. I've got things to do, and they don't include playing nice with little girls who have nothing better to do than run errands."

"Oh! You really are in a mean mood!" She gave a rather mischievous smile and winked in a very seductive way, before undoing the top button on her shirt, exposing her chest to a dangerous amount. "I bet I know what can cheer you up though!"

It was his turn to give a dangerous smile. This woman really didn't change much at all, every time he saw her she'd flirt with just about anyone she saw, and yet she somehow managed to maintain her dignity despite it. It was strange. He knew for a fact that if any other woman exposed herself to such a degree, and flirted with men on a nearly constant basis, that they'd be constantly gossiped about and hated by nearly every other woman in the civilised world. Somehow Rangiku never got the same bad press, and no matter how she acted everyone seemed to fawn over her and adore her. Maybe it was the fact that no matter how sexually forward she acted she never actually crossed the line, refusing to put out like a whore and keeping her conquests to a reasonable level, or maybe it was just because she looked like a goddess and had the most personable personality in existence. The way Zaraki saw it she was incredibly lucky. If anyone else acted in such a way they'd be labelled quite negatively for sure. Then again that was Rangiku for you . . . one of a kind.

"Whatever. Do your shirt back up. If someone gets the wrong idea and Byakuya finds out then I'll beat your ass to a pulp, you got that, woman?"

"Aw! You're already threatening to beat up a defenceless woman, it really must be love!" She quickly buttoned her shirt and gave a high bounce in the air. "You're so cute at times, Zaraki-Sensei!"

"I can't tell if you're being sincere or sarcastic . . . Whatever, just follow me."

He headed at a leisurely pace along the corridor, ignoring the 'ooh' and 'ah' that occasionally came from Rangiku as she fawned over the things she saw. It seemed the certificates, trophies and photos were fascinating to her, and occasionally she'd giggle at old photographs of Zaraki, where he'd have his hair down or be wearing a casual yukata. He wasn't as bothered by her behaviour as he might have been. It was nice to stop every so often and talk about the fights long since past, pointing to certain kendo or martial art moves and explaining how they worked, and to his surprise Rangiku actually understood what he was talking about too. The only part he could – with all honesty – say that he hated was one particular photo near the end; framed quite largely next to his office door . . .

It was a testament to how little he came down here, and how much administrative work he made his men do in his place. The photo frame had a thin layer of dust over it so it'd obviously been there for a while, and he could honestly say that if he'd seen the photograph of Gin having kicked his ass in a kendo match he'd have destroyed it at once. He had no idea when the fox-faced bastard had hung the photograph there, but his prank wasn't one that he appreciated. If it weren't for the fact he'd helped Zaraki make a date with Byakuya, along with Kyoraku's help, then he'd have kicked his ass first thing when he next saw him. Luckily Rangiku pretended not to see the photo as he pulled it down from the wall, mentally planning how he'd be able to sneak a humiliating photograph of Gin into his classroom, before realising he'd probably need help playing a prank like that. Heh, it didn't matter, for now he had bigger concerns. He quickly turned and opened his office door; ready to step inside, when he saw something that forced himself and Rangiku to stop dead in their tracks.

His office wasn't like any of his friends or colleagues, and it sure as hell wasn't anything like Byakuya's. Gin's office was filled with random items and lots of photos and pictures, Rangiku's was so messy it'd make a maze look easy to navigate, and Byakuya's had been stark, empty and barren and contained items so expensive that it reeked of wealth and status. In contrast his office was not like any of theirs. There was no spark of personality or individuality, he didn't use his space to put across any kind of message, it was just a practical area designed for work he couldn't care less about. Who needed photos or expensive stuff when you were supposed to work in the dump? Who in their right mind would let mess pile up when it wasn't constructive to work? Nah, it wasn't like his friends', but that made it a lot more convenient at times, and now was one of them.

It was a small room. The window at the back only allowed a small flicker of natural light to shine inside, and with the tiny computer desk and two filing cabinets the room was essentially full. There was literally enough space for two people to stand comfortably, but that was all, and that was all he needed, after all it only took one person to do the paperwork, so what was the point in excess space? The bright side was that it made things easy to find . . . very easy to find.

Kira-kun was seated behind the desk, leaning back on the office-chair at an awkward angle, with his arms rested on the windowsill and his head on his hands. His blond hair was covering his face and his breathing was slow, it looked like the kid was sleeping, and tightly grasped in one hand was a mobile phone that had a screensaver of Gin flashing on its screen. Ugh, young love. Could anything be more sickening than having a picture of your boyfriend with you wherever you go? If his relationship with Byakuya ever got to the point where he'd open his phone and see that smarmy face staring back at him, he'd shoot himself. No way would he ever get that dependent on someone else to make him happy. It wasn't that he wasn't romantic or anything, in fact he was sure that he could be if he ever felt bothered enough to try, but there was just something creepy about being so loved-up that people felt inclined to act the way Gin and Kira did. The way Kira had looked at Gin with such adoration, or the way Gin acted so possessive and obsessive . . . yeah, so what if Kyoraku found it cute, or if Rangiku acted like a schoolgirl each time she saw such 'affection', he still found it bloody weird. It reminded him of that old film each time he saw them, with some creepy stalker-love that ended in violence. Then again, he'd rather have that kind of love than the kind Yumichika and Ikkaku had any day, because if loving someone meant kissing an old friend in their sensei's office, then it was really something not worth having at all.

The feathered-faced freak was locked in an embrace with the scarred-faced guy, his hands raised up against his chest as if unsure whether to push away or pull him closer, and meanwhile the scarred guy was running his own hands indecently over Yumichika's body. In normal circumstances he couldn't have cared less what the hell these two got up to, but considering Yumichika's relationship to Ikkaku he did care, because as much as he hated to admit it that kid was almost like a son to him . . . sure an ungrateful, bastard son who was probably a disgrace to his family name, but a son nonetheless. Frankly he would have punched Yumichika in that pretty face of his, if it weren't for Rangiku clamping a hand on his shoulder to stop him, as she perked up and peered around Zaraki to see what was going on.

"Ooh! You never told me about this, Ayasegawa-san! You are a naughty boy, you better hope that Muguruma-san doesn't find out about this, because it'll ruin your modelling career!"

It was then that everything seemed to happen at once. Huh, maybe it was true; maybe Rangiku really was a special woman. He doubted anyone else alive could wake Kira with a single sentence, or cause two men to break away from a kiss that passionate, and yet somehow she'd managed just that. Not only that but the reaction of Yumichika was certainly . . . unexpected.

At once Yumichika pushed the scarred-faced kid away with such force that he nearly fell over his own two feet, the only thing stopping him was the fact Zaraki's office was no bigger than a box, and the moment he moved backwards a large filing cabinet stopped his fall. The next thing Zaraki saw Yumichika had pulled back his hand as far as it would go and backhanded the guy right across his scarred cheek, causing him to groan and clutch his face in pain. It struck Zaraki as a little underhanded considering the bastard had obviously enjoyed the kiss and reciprocated, but frankly if the guy couldn't defend himself against such an obvious blow then he was asking for it, after all there were no rules in war, it was kill or be killed . . . or slap or be slapped in this case. Of course, even Zaraki had to draw the line somewhere, and what Yumichika did next was certainly what he considered crossing the line.

"How ugly! Such behaviour is most unwarranted!"

Kira was already on his feet by this point. He'd stashed his phone away into his jeans pocket, and was smoothing out the creases in his shirt, although he hadn't much to worry about considering how his parents weren't home and his teacher was also his boyfriend. He was admittedly looking a little out of it, but with a raging hangover, about two hours of sleep, and waking up to find his two friends kissing then fighting, who could blame him? Although as far as Zaraki was concerned the words he spoke next were what sealed Yumichika's actions, if it wasn't for that one question then maybe he'd have never acted out of turn.

"Huh? Are you guys fighting?" He said as he blinked sleep from his eyes. "What happened, I could have sworn I saw Hisagi-Sempai kiss you, is that what he did?"

"What? No!" Hisagi shouted. He raised his hands high in a defensive gesture, looking at Kira aghast. "I did no such thing! Yumichika was the one who kissed me, I didn't so much as touch -!"

Even Rangiku had to wince as Yumichika quickly heaved up his leg and kneed the scarred kid sharply in the groin. Zaraki flinched slightly to himself in sympathy, although he had to smile at Yumichika's audacity, and watched as the scarred guy collapsed to the floor slowly with tears in his eyes. It was amusing in a really not-so-amusing way, and frankly he didn't understand any of what just happened at all. All Yumichika did was dust off his knee as if it'd somehow been contaminated, then lifted his head high in the air with a look of contempt.

"Disgusting."

That was the only thing he said before making a dramatic motion of dusting his hands, before he marched smartly out of the office and pushed past Rangiku and Zaraki. He didn't even glance back as he walked straight along the corridor and into the main training hall, and assumedly out of the academy altogether. Rangiku was already giggling like a child, and all Zaraki could do was smile like a sadist, watching as the kid on the floor looked completely baffled and agonised.

The only thing that made the situation better was Kira's startled response, as he looked around the room with an expression of almost terror, with his blue eyes shimmering as he seemed completely lost. Even his voice was shaking when he asked loudly for all to hear:

"Did I miss something?"

It was at that point Zaraki let out a sharp, barking laugh. It was rare for him to share an emotion so strongly with Rangiku, but even he had to see the humour in the situation, because boy Kira could be one heck of an unobservant guy.

"Put it this way kid," Zaraki said, "you'll never see a moment like that again."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

By Ray

He wouldn't call it his finest hour… though the concept of a finest hour was a little ludicrous to him. Even the first time he'd… made love with Ichimaru-Sensei he'd been so stunned by his good fortune and the intensity of his emotions, he'd cried afterwards. No hour of his whole life had been what he'd call 'awesome all the way', but last night really had been a sham… from the blurs of it he could recall anyway. Izuru was sure he was becoming one of those punk kids you see on the television, who go crazy once their parents leave them alone. His family would never be able to imagine what he'd been up too nearly every night since they'd been gone. Last night he'd made a complete fool of himself…

Hisagi-Sempai kept saying to him, 'Izuru, make that the last one' very quietly when they were sat at Matsumoto-san's. That was one reason why he drank hard, just to spite him. Sempai could hardly lecture anyone on irresponsible behaviour whilst intoxicated (if he could recall, at Ishida-san's party, Hisagi-sempai had taken off his shirt whilst loudly humming stripper music… Ba-Bum-Bum-Ba-Da-Da-Bum-Bum) Sensei was working tonight, it was a shame, and he'd been hoping he would stay over at his. That was probably why he drank so heavy, he didn't like being drunk in front of Ichimaru-Sensei; he wanted to remember all of it. He remembered falling over in the toilet and Renji coming in to rescue him. Things had been a little awkward between himself and Renji ever since the redhead became obsessed with the idea that he was being abused.

It was completely embarrassing; he couldn't tell Renji what was seriously going on. The more people who found out about him and Ichimaru-Sensei, the higher chances would be of someone like… the school board or the police, or his parents finding out. Izuru couldn't bear the idea of Ichimaru-Sensei getting into trouble… of being called a paedophile or worse…

The rest of the night blurred into a series of him being carried by various people. Renji, out of the toilets, Matsumoto-san, out of the back rooms, Hisagi-Sempai out of the bar… Hisagi-Sempai putting him down in some street; he could recall the older boy talking rapidly and irritably down the phone, most likely to Kensei-san. He remembered something flashing past him, it jolted him and made him vomit into the hedges… he'd heard something moving again, Hisagi-Sempai shouting something… then he saw… what appeared to be Ayasegawa-san fighting like he was in a kung-fu movie or something. He thought it was a dream, well accompanied as he blacked out afterwards. He was awake for a couple of minutes, being carried by someone, he realized later was Madarame-san, because of his gruff tone of voice, bridal style. Izuru had said something like, 'Put me down, I'm gonna be sick'. The response to this had been Madarame-san shouting, 'Urgh' and dropping him on the floor. Before he went back into the realms of the unconscious, he heard Zaraki-Sensei say, 'Ikkaku' in a stern voice.

The next thing he remembered was being sat on a desk, trying to ring Gin; he'd wanted to tell him he loved him over the phone; as drunks tend to do with their dear ones. He'd drifted back off, and when he opened his eyes again, he'd seen Ayasegawa-san and Hisagi-Sempai sat on the sofa… they were kissing quite heatedly; Sempai had a hand on his butt… he thought he was dreaming again.

After that, Matsumoto-san had taken him home and made him a cheese sandwich, and he'd cried into her chest as he'd done on numerous occasions. He'd gone to sleep there probably, and when he woke up Matsumoto-san had been watching daytime TV with her feet up, casually snacking away on the food he'd been left.

Mornings after were never very pretty; he'd spent most of it in the toilet. In fact the whole day seemed to pass him by. After Matsumoto-san left at about noon, saying she had work to do, meaning she was going shopping; he pretty much just sat around in his living room slowly recovering his senses. At three o'clock, Ichimaru-Sensei called him to tease him about his behaviour last night; they were going to meet tomorrow night for dinner.

"He raised me, ya see, Izuru," he'd said in a matter of fact tone, "So it'd be simply ludicrous if ya weren't t' have dinner with Aizen. It's like meeting mah parents."

He didn't know a lot about Sosuke Aizen, mostly what he'd heard was from Momo, who'd read an interview with him three or four years ago, and became infatuated. Most girls would be fainting over a photo of Antonio Banderes or Leonardo DiCaprio… not Momo; she had a crush on the CEO of a multimillion dollar organisation, well known for his corporate brutality and charming smile… Well, he supposed you'd call it an educated woman's taste. Either that or she just went for guys who could easily trade a sweet fatherly appearance or a darker sexier one. Though, when he said sexy, Sosuke Aizen wasn't really his sort of man… but he could see what Momo meant…

At about five-thirty he turned off the television and made a quick dinner now his appetite was back, with a glass of water, which he'd tell himself he was going to be drinking a lot of (every day after he'd been drinking, he think to himself, 'I'm never drinking so much again' – naturally that promise fell flat on it's face…). He took one of his favourite books out from his bedroom, Homer's The Odyssey, something that had, surprisingly, been introduced to him by Renji.

To jump to conclusion that Renji read Ancient Classics would be a bit of a long shot, however the old man who ran the orphanage Renji grew up at used to put on Western videos with poor Japanese translation to keep the kids still for a few hours. Renji and Sempai both had a strange love for the original Clash of the Titans, the Odyssey and Jason and the Argonauts, Rukia-san wasn't as fond because they didn't have rabbits in them.

More than once someone, most likely Renji, would say, 'Why're you reading that again, Izuru? You must have read it a thousand times!' The honest truth was, he enjoyed revisiting his books, when you read a book again; you notice things you didn't the first time around. And the story of the Odyssey was never something he could tire of. The compelling tale of a man returning home from the war, against all the odds, some of epic proportion – how on earth you could tire of such a thing? Izuru's eyes were glued to the page, knees pulled to his chest as he sat, half-heartedly munching at the bowl of cereal in front of him. His evening was set.

Or it would have been, if not for the knock at his door at about seven o'clock. For a moment, his heart leapt – what if it was Ichimaru-Sensei, now free from his work! He'd carefully placed his bookmark, tried to dispose of his dinner, smartened his appearance in the hanging mirror by the front door, and opened it, looking a little overly delighted… only to find a rather bedraggled looking Hisagi-Sempai stood in his doorway.

The two of them always looked rough after a night partying, however, today he looked totally different. He looked like he hadn't slept, a blossoming bruise around his right eye, his bottom lip plump and swollen, his handsome face drawn into a sort of defeated smile, "Hi there, Izuru… Sorry to drop in on you like this."

Izuru glanced at the older man; he was wearing yesterday's clothes and a rather battered pair of shoes, his spiky hair messed up and untidy. In his left hand he was holding a duffel bag cramming with clothes. Which lead Izuru to one conclusion: he'd been kicked out.

"Come in, Sempai," he reached past him and led him in, gasping when the older man winced when Izuru's hand touched his elbow. The blond lead him to the sofa, offered him a drink, which Hisagi-Sempai refused; a moment's silence passed before either of them said anything.

"I'm sorry for disturbing your evening, Izuru. You weren't expecting anyone, were you?"

"N-No, not at all – it's not a bother for you, Hisagi-Sempai…"

"Thank you, you're a good friend."

Another few minutes passed before Izuru had the courage to ask, lowering his voice, "What happened, Sempai?"

He could guess what had happened. A few weeks ago Kensei-san had persuaded Hisagi-Sempai to sell his apartment and move in with him. (A modest man like Sempai took a long time to persuade) After last night, Sempai probably felt guilty about kissing Ayasegawa-san, and felt like he owed it to Kensei-san to tell him. From there, he could guess that Kensei-san flew into a violent rage and threw Sempai out of his apartment… Although he felt a slowly rising disgust for the older man as he thought of him beating up Hisagi-Sempai.

"W-Well… I did something really stupid last night…" he began, looking like recounting what he did would be enough to make him tense up again.

"I know…" Izuru mumbled gently, trying to help him along, "You and Ayasegawa-san?"

"Yeah," he admitted, "It was just… it wasn't like it even meant anything… I'd just had this ridiculous fight with Kensei… He'd agreed to pick us up from Rangiku-san's in his car, then when we got out he gave me a load of stupid directions," his voice was a little tight, clearly irritated by the memory, "and because I was drunk, I carried you around, following them. Then you were being sick, so I put you down and rang him back… It turned out he'd been drinking with Love-san and the directions he'd given me spelt out 'MYCOCK'… we argued down the phone for about ten minutes… Then Yumichika attacked this guy," he rubbed his head, "I didn't even see it… we went to Zaraki's place, I don't even know why it happened… I mean he kissed me…" Shuhei bowed his head. That was true, his feelings for Yumichika faded away like the summer into autumn. It was good while it lasted, but it was over, neither of them was sorry about it. It would have been easy to say, 'Kensei, a man tried to come onto me'… 'He kissed me, I felt nothing'… but it wouldn't be true. Yumichika kissed him, but he enjoyed it so much he might as well have initiated it.

So he'd told the other man just that.

"Kensei, I kissed someone else."

God, he never wanted to see that look on the other man's face. He didn't even look angry at first, he'd looked… sad… really sad. Then he'd said, quietly, but firmly, "How do you mean, you kissed someone else?"

"I-I made out with another man."

"And…" he rubbed his temples, "Why did you do that, Shuhei?"

"Because… I wanted to." That was the only thing he could say. He'd kissed him back, he'd run his hands all over that beautiful body because he wanted too… he'd wanted to touch him… for a split second before Rangiku-san interrupted them, he was running over the times in his head where he'd fucked the man pressing against him… how good it had felt, even though it was just fooling around… how that little narcissist would lose all of his airs and graces once he was being really fucked… He owed Kensei this to tell him he'd had those sorts of feelings for another man.

That was where he lost it. He flew into a jealous rage; he started yelling at him angrily, he kept jerking his hand around the apartment. His words sort of blurred together, but Shuhei got the gist of it. 'How could you do this to me? After all I've done for you! I have you a home – I thought you were fucking happy – turns out you're just a fucking stupid kid!'

"I'm sorry."

"– Knew it was too fucking good to be true! Why the fuck would you be interested in me… Urgh – fucking little slut! Like hell you just made out with him! Like hell, Shuhei! You think I'm fucking stupid, don't you? Clearly – everyone said – everyone said you were too good for me!"

"Kensei, I'm so sorry, I made a mistake–"

He'd bashed his hand against the table, it contacted with a vase, which shattered onto the floor, cutting the older man's hand. He cursed and turned his back, muttering, 'Now look what you made me do'.

Shuhei had tried to take a look at the bleeding hand, he'd wanted to try and beg him… try and get him to soothe this over… Though he deserved it, he didn't want it to end right here. When he touched Kensei's hand, which was when he hit him. He'd yelled out, 'don't touch me, you little slut' and slapped him across the face. The blow didn't hurt that much; it got his mouth, his lip bloody from where he'd bitten into it accidentally when the other man hit him.

He'd said he was sorry again, but Kensei turned his head away, 'I don't want to hear it, Shuhei! Just get out… get the fuck out of here'.

It hurt him a lot to do, but it was the only thing he really could do. It was what he deserved at this point. Shuhei had headed into the bedroom and began to grab his things together, mostly clothes and sentimental things that belonged to both of them he was worried Kensei would destroy in his absence.

Kensei came storming back into the room, looking like a man possessed, "Who was it?"

Rangiku-san had said it last night; Yumichika's career would end if Kensei ever found out. In more sense than one: Kensei would exploit his friendship with Rose-san and Mashiro-san to make sure Yumichika never worked at Vizard again… and he'd probably do a number on his face to assure he wasn't fit to model for anything.

"He was nobody. Just some guy."

"Shuhei, why don't you stop fucking lying, okay? You've humiliated me enough; so give me the bastard's name?" He grabbed onto Shuhei's arm in a vice like painful grip, as he left the bedroom and headed into the bathroom to get his toothbrush and shower gel.

"I don't know his name! I've never seen him before; he was just some guy at the bar!" He managed to shake the arm off, wincing as he felt it bruising beneath his sweater, cramming the toiletries into the now rather full duffel, trying not to get tearful as he reached the front door, bending down to put on his sneakers.

"You're covering for someone! I bet it was your friend with all those tattoo's and the red hair! I bet it was him! I'll fucking get him!"

There was always a line in any relationship; he wouldn't let Kensei get away with threatening his friends. Shuhei turned on him with angry eyes, "Now listen, Kensei. I was the one, who made the mistake, I deserve your anger, and don't you dare take it out on my friends! They're nothing to do with this!"

"That's bullshit! I've seen how you turn into a little whore, taking your clothes off after you've had a few beers! Why draw a boundary at your little friends, you fucking whore?!"

"I love you."

"Get out of my house! Get the fuck out – That's a load of bullshit!"

"I love you, Kensei."

"SHUT UP!" He'd raised his fist to punch him… he swung… then lowered it, letting out a miserable cry of defeat. Shuhei looked at his face and saw his lover's eyes were watering, instantly he covered them with his forefinger and thumb. He'd heard him let out a slightly strangled sob.

The sound was enough to break his resolve, and Shuhei tried to rush forwards, he wanted to hold him, to cry with him and try and make it better… but it wouldn't work that way… he slammed the door shut just as Shuhei rushed forwards.

The front door hit him in the face; he could feel it swelling around his right cheek bone. Trying not to cry he stepped out and headed down the street, shaking slightly from the intensity of their fight.

"Sempai, do you have nowhere else to go?"

"No," he admitted, rubbing his temples, "I have nowhere to go," he bowed his head, covering his face in his hands, "A-And it's over between me and him… he'll never take me back…"

Izuru shook his head, his voice shocked and suddenly insistent, "Hisagi-Sempai, he hit you! He hit you in the face – why would you want to go back to him?"

"I love him," he'd mumbled, "God, Izuru, I know it sounds bad… but I've loved him since I was…" he shrugged his shoulders, covering his face with his hands, "I got this tattoo on my face because of him…"

When he looked up, Izuru was looking relatively horrified.

"I-It isn't like that," he managed to let out a little dry laugh when he realized how that sounded, "I saw his tattoo when I was a punk kid… it sort of inspired me. When I met him again, Kensei-san flipped out and thought I was a mental patient or something when he saw it," he traced the tattoo with his fingers lightly. He could still remember how wide the older man's eyes went, he'd taken him to one side and got really angry saying he didn't like people copying his look – particularly on their face!

Izuru shook his head gently, "Would you like a hot drink or something, sempai?" he rose from the sofa, "And perhaps an ice pack for that lip?"

"Thank you, Izuru," he said; rubbing his head, "I'll try not to stay too long. It's not polite to impose on you like this… I'm going to see if I can go back to renting something similar to my old place."

Remembering back to his sempai's old apartment, it seemed like an even greater reason to let him stay here. Izuru had to feel horrible for the guy, he'd saved and saved to move out of the foster home; he wasn't lucky like Renji or Rukia-san, to get taken in by kind parents. He'd never had the happiness of a loving home; his only home had been the orphanage or ones he'd built on his own… genuinely, the nicest place Hisagi-Sempai ever lived was with Kensei-san. Even his student accommodation had been nicer than the hole he'd rented…

"It's no bother," the blond said firmly, "really, sempai. We've been friends long enough to be passed that, right?"

"You're too kind, Izuru," Shuhei covered his face with his hand, letting out a gentle sigh, "I feel like such an idiot… Oh," he sat upright, "What about you and your… mystery boyfriend? Are you sure I won't be in the way?"

He tensed a little at that… the thought hadn't crossed his mind. All that mattered in those few minutes was helping his friend through this difficult time… but that was right, it would mean he and Gin couldn't enjoy their last few days together the way they'd planned. Inwardly he'd winced; Ichimaru-Sensei wasn't going to like that at all. Still, they'd be having dinner with Sosuke Aizen tomorrow, perhaps they could cuddle and such… on the way home? It would royally complicate things, Sempai would worry unnecessarily if he found out about the two of them… and he'd feel guilty for continuing to tell Renji he was talking rubbish, when the red head ranted and raved.

"Oh, not at all."

"Are you sure? I mean –"

"Sempai, I promise you, it's not a problem," Izuru said firmly.

When he really thought about it, Hisagi-Sempai would do the same for him. He was always blowing off the mystery man (who turned out to be Yumichika-san) when Izuru was in middle school and feeling depressed and in need of a friendly face. It would be awful if he didn't return the favour now, Sempai was homeless, he had nowhere to go and he was all bruised from his sociopath boyfriend.

'I'm sorry, Sensei', he thought to himself, thinking of Ichimaru-Sensei briefly as he handed over the frozen pea's, "I'll put you up in the spare room? My parents won't mind at all. They always liked you best."

"I wish you wouldn't keep saying that," Shuhei laughed as he lay back on the sofa, holding the bag to his lower lip, wincing a little as the cold touched him, "Wow those are really cold… And really, you're always trying to say your parents don't like you. You're still such a pessimist, Izuru."

"I am not," he insisted, scowling a little. Wondering if that statement was only backed up by the fact he was cursing himself and thinking how irritated Ichimaru-Sensei would be with him…

When Ichigo was about nine years old, his father took him and his little sister's to this strange playhouse style place. It was large with unusual square tables that looked like they were made of Lego but weren't. It had a bouncy castle and an indoor climbing room, surrounded by a mote full of plastic brightly coloured balls. Ichigo had never been a particularly cheerful child, aside from in his mother's company; he was either a crybaby or sulking in the corner, not quite ready to play with the other kids. When he lost his mother, he was as stiff in terms of playing as Karin (the only five-year-old ever to accuse Pugsy the Clown of 'violating' her 'personal bubble'). Anyway, this unusual place was somewhere single parents take their kids for a supportive environment and the company of other single parents.

If memory served correct, Yuzu played in the ball pit, until one of the bigger boys took them off her and made her cry. Ichigo, who had a wide combat experience at nine from serving dutifully as Tatsuki's sparing partner, hit the guy in the nose. When the boy's mother confronted his dad about it, he almost had the situation resolved, until Karin said rather loudly, 'That lady wears too much make-up.'

They never returned to that strange place.

Until now…

Ichigo Kurosaki was sat on the Lego chair, drumming his fingers irritably on the table. He'd forgotten the unfortunate smell of children's food… everything smelt like a sandwich box… it almost made him want to wrench, and made him feel happy that he was tall enough not to have his nose close to the table… but it wasn't a complete blessing, as the tiny chair made him look like a giant. He was sat opposite his boyfriend, who looked just as uncomfortable; with a tiny but very demanding little girl between them. Right now he wanted nothing more than to leave, he wanted to kill Grimmjow. The blue haired man said he'd make up to him for the other day, and the Renji incident… and he wasn't beyond using the adorability of his sister to try and win Ichigo back. However neither of them could believe their ears when she cheerfully demanding that she wanted to go to Rainbow Land.

"Itsygoo," she said suddenly, tugging on his sleeve, drawing him out of his vein throbbing trail of thought.

Trying his best to pull a calmer expression, he bent down a little to address her, "Yes, Nel, is something wrong?"

"Ya ain't eatin' yer worms, Itsygoo!"

He cast a suspecting eye at the food on the ladybird plate in front of him. Indeed, he was sure the so called food they'd been given, did move on spurious moments… apparently they were made of pork… but he'd never seen food that looked like actual worms this much before!

"I'm saving them for later."

"No! Ya gots to eat them while they're hot!"

"Why don't we share them?" he said a little reluctantly. He didn't know if it would be right to share his potentially dangerous food with a little kid… but he wasn't going to eat them, and she wasn't going to drop it until he did.

"Sharing?" she glared at him suspiciously, "Itsygoo is up to something…" Her eyes narrowed and she shifted her little body up, leaning towards him, trying to maintain eye contact. Which he found very difficult as her lips were pouted and her nose running, ever so slightly…

Damn it… he glanced at Grimmjow for a little help. That idiot was meant to be her guardian, but the most disciplinary movement he'd seen him take with his sister was telling her she'd have to wait in line to ride the donkey at the beach last spring break. It hadn't gone down well, and the blue haired lawyer was convinced nobody saw him slip that guy some cash to let them line jump… Nel was a cute kid, but she was so spoilt. Grimmjow doted on her hand and foot, and those two men who looked after her were no better. In fact the three of them played the most… unusual games. Pesche Guatiche, a skinny blond man who collected Stag Beatles and had taken a strange liking to Uryu the one time they'd met, and Dondochaka Bilstin, who decorated their large apartment with Tiki masks… along with their pet… Ichigo first believed it to be a snake, but Nel called it an eel, named Bawabawa. Again, he'd had thought it dangerous to have such a large… serpent type thing living with a little girl (who had no concept of danger)… but again, Nel insisted, so Grimmjow shrugged and said, 'Why not'.

"Hey, Nel," Grimmjow scooped an arm around her to draw her back into her chair, "Ichigo doesn't want to play Eternal Food Snatch. He wants to share his… delicious treats with you. Isn't that nice?"

She paused, almost like she couldn't believe a person offering to share food would do it without ill intention… Then she nodded her head and pulled Ichigo's plate between them; "Yes, thank you, Itsygoo."

It was a relief he'd offered the so called food to Nel, as she devoured them happily, though, sweetly, or as sweetly as a runny nosed rather spoilt little tyke can be, she saved him the last one. It would have been had manners not to have at least one… especially seeing as she was pulling the face. To Nel, it was probably a sweet, pleading sort of thing, to anyone else; it was a bit of a pressurising glare. He shot Grimmjow one of his looks as he swallowed the unfortunate so-called treat. It didn't poison him… he was sure little kids had a strange immune system they'd grow out of eventually… one that allowed them to put whatever they wanted in their mouths and not… die.

If he recalled, his own father nearly passed out when Karin and Yuzu were little; Karin had been a picky eater as a baby, and one day she'd crawled into the back garden and began to eat moss. Their mother had been at Ishida-san's (as he'd delivered the two girls) having a check up with Yuzu, who was deemed to unhealthier of the twins; Ichigo was sat playing in the living room with Tatsuki (though playing with Tatsuki always left your arm feeling sore)… their father had come outside and seen his baby girl eating. When he asked her what it was, she just gave him a wide toothless smile. Cautiously, he put his hand in her mouth to take out whatever it was she was chewing. The next thing Ichigo heard was a piercing scream and gagging as his father threw up in a bin.

Nel happily ran off towards the ball pit, shouting something and waving her little arms around and singing. Her speech impediment was a little sweet once you got used to it. Though he did hope she'd stop calling him Itsygoo soon… that would be nice.

Ichigo shot Grimmjow a look as he shifted his Lego chair closer to him, resting a hand on his knee, which the orange haired boy quickly batted off. He turned his head and give him a rather cold calculating look, "Don't think you're off the hook because of your sister, Grimmjow."

He winced and leant in closer, lowering his voice because of the nearby children, "Oh, come on, Ichigo. I said I was sorry. I was just… expressing the strength of my feelings," he whispered, "Renji gets it. He won't be too sore."

"You could have done it yourself if it was really like that," Ichigo snapped at him, his eyes narrowed, "You didn't have to bring that psychopathic man with you… Nnoitra."

"I was pissed off, alright?" he hissed, "That guy kissed you. Nobody's allowed to kiss you but me!" At this point, Grimmjow realized he'd raised his voice a little dangerously, a touch of mania in his tone; he glanced nervously around the room as he saw scornful single mothers now watching the pair disapprovingly. Then back at Ichigo, who was glowering at him, just like those women.

Ichigo raised an eyebrow, "Now you're talking about me like I'm some kind of woman."

Grimmjow just went dark at the cheeks and added in a cold voice, "Look, you know what I mean, Ichigo. I meant it when I said I loved you. I can't have some other guy… you know." He let out a groan and looked away, his hand resting on the table, "Oh whatever… it's impossible to say anything to you, damn it…" Then he felt a hand on top of his, raising his head to see Ichigo's slightly embarrassed expression, his soft, but firm.

"I… I know."

It was an almost perfect moment, quickly to be disrupted by the irritated groaning of a young girl in the doorway.

"I hate it here, Stark. You just go to sleep and leave me to do whatever I want. How is this spending quality time together? I wanted to go bowling!"

Grimmjow squeezed Ichigo's hand, letting go and turning his head towards the scene. In the doorway of the building, he could see a rather tired looking Stark, rubbing his temples, taking off his coat to hand to the door woman, looking extremely tall beside his eleven year old daughter. Grimmjow only had the pleasure of meeting the enchanting Lilinette a few times… she was such a disagreeable child, the utter opposite of Stark, which was amusing considering the man had raised her on his own.

"What's the matter, Lilinette?" he sighed, "This was your favourite place when you were little."

"A woman's taste can change in… five years, Stark!"

Grimmjow sighed, "Poor guy… he's much too lazy to keep that girl happy."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, "Says the guy who takes me along with him to satisfy the needs of his – argh!" he yelled out as he felt two little arms hook around his neck from behind, making him topple back, his feet scratching onto the floor just in time, gagging for air. In the back of his head he heard the delighted cry of: 'Itsygoo! Come n' play in the ball pit!'

"What do ya want, Sosuke?"

The pile of marked essays were gently placed on his desk, beside the radio, jazz music blaring out of it. He glanced up from his book, watching as those firm, long fingered hands reached down to the volume switch to turn down the music. Shinji lowered his feet from his desk, sitting upright in his chair and tilting back his head to look his assistant in the eye, "What do ya want, Sosuke?" he repeated.

There was something… that looked like uncertainty in the other man's face, his eyes narrowed. Sosuke was always hard to read, but today he looked genuinely unsure of himself. It was a little… disturbing.

"I've been offered another job," he said after a moment's silence, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. "Do you want to write me a resignation letter, Hirako-Sensei?"

At that moment, he realized that Sosuke would grow away from him; it was… inevitable. It was a lonely feeling… that whatever it was they'd had, and it had been felt, by both of them, he could tell… whatever it had been, it was over now.

It was over.

Little had he known, it had been just the opposite. His statement had been a test, and Shinji had failed it.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

By Rob

"Is something the matter, Kira-kun?"

Kira jumped slightly in his seat, as he looked around to see all eyes on him. It seemed he must have entered a daze because he hadn't been aware of the conversation going on around him at all.

He'd obviously switched off. His mind had left the room entirely as he began to daydream and ponder all the things going on in his life, after a few seconds the conversation had become just a mild drone to his ears and he'd been busy planning out his next few days, along with trying to solve the problem of Shuhei. It had been a peacefully few minutes of simply self-meditating, and he had completely forgotten about where he was! He certainly hadn't noticed that he'd been giving off bad vibes and had caused the other guests to worry about him! It was as if Aizen's voice had came from nowhere, and it had forced him from his private thoughts in a rather abrupt way, it not only disturbed him but forced him back to reality. It was actually rather disorientating. Suddenly he was alert, awake and panicking as he realised he had no idea what everyone had been discussing just moments before. He hadn't meant to be so rude, he really hadn't! In seconds he'd gone from being in a world of his own to sat at a dinner-table filled mostly with strangers, each one looking at him as if it was his fault the previous conversation had died, and maybe it was . . .

He really hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings in the slightest. Sure it was rude, but he couldn't help it. He really couldn't! He knew that this dinner had meant a lot to Gin, it was so important to his boyfriend that he met Gin's father-figure, and he could understand that – he really could! It was just that . . . well, as much as he really wanted to make Gin happy, he didn't actually want to be there, and that wasn't because he didn't love Gin, or care about his family, or any other negative reason, it was just because he was so damned tired.

When he'd agreed to the meal on Friday afternoon all he'd had to worry about was a hangover that wouldn't go away, and cleaning up the mess Rangiku had left in the kitchen, he'd been nervous but ultimately there'd been no real reason to say no, but now -! Now he had a whole day's worth of schoolwork to catch up on, essays to write, – and essays to mark seeing as he'd found himself as Gin's unofficial assistant – friends to see, and that was completely forgetting the fact Shuhei-sempai was at home still grieving the loss of his relationship. Truthfully he'd felt really guilty about leaving his friend, but Shuhei had insisted that he should keep his promise to his 'mystery lover' and head to the dinner. Sure, Shuhei might have said he was fine, but Kira couldn't help but feel that he wasn't, after all the man was much too stubborn to admit to feeling depressed or down, even if it was so damned obvious! What worried Kira the most was what if Shuhei took advantage of his absence and called Kensei-san, or decided to get back with him? It worried him that his friend could want to be in such an abusive relationship, and it felt like his responsibility to stop it, to make sure that Shuhei was safe. It was impossible for him not to be distracted! Every moment he sat eating his main course was a moment that Shuhei needed him, and a moment he was neglecting his friend for his own selfish desire to please his boyfriend! Oh, and now he felt guilty for putting Shuhei first over Gin's needs! Life really wasn't fair!

"If something is the matter, Kira-kun," came the sweet singsong voice of Aizen, as he smiled brightly and cocked his head to one side, "then please tell me so that I may correct the fault."

"O-Oh! No, it's nothing Aizen-sama! I-I'm just feeling a little under the weather . . . that's all . . . I'm sorry."

"There is no need to apologise. If you find yourself needing to rest then I can have one of the servants set up a room for you to relax in, do not hesitate to ask if need be."

"Th-Thank you, Aizen-sama."

Yeah, because that hadn't been humiliating at all . . . It took all his strength not to groan loudly and slip two feet down his seat, his nerves were really beginning to get the better of him, and he felt so embarrassed for causing a mild scene. He wanted to look across the table at Gin for reassurance, but he was so scared! He couldn't bear to turn to his boyfriend only to see a look of disapproval, disgust or embarrassment . . . not that he thought Gin was that kind of person! After all he loved the silver-haired man very much, and he knew that the man was decent and kind-hearted, but Gin had meant this meal to introduce Kira to one of the most important people in his life, and so everything Kira did was a reflection on his boyfriend. If he did or said something inappropriate then it'd be Gin the guests would look at oddly or judge, wondering what he was doing with some uneducated heathen. He just couldn't bear to bring his boyfriend that kind of shame! It just wasn't fair, not when Gin had always been so kind and loving to him, not when he'd already done so much for him . . .

He bit his lip as he glanced around the large table, hoping he was being somewhat subtle as he examined each person in turn. He was already so nervous, his heart beating a million beats per minute in his chest until the point he thought it'd go so fast it might stop, and his lips suddenly felt incredibly dry and his palms incredibly sweaty. He was also pretty close to hyperventilating too. Luckily no one had seemed to notice, or if they had they were too polite to mention it to his face.

At the head of the table sat Aizen-sama in a rather expensive, crisp, new business-suit with his hair loose and casual, and his glasses emphasising his rather expressive, brown eyes. He looked completely different to the photographs in the magazines that Momo fawned over, and Kira couldn't help but wonder if the man was merely putting on an act to win his trust. Kira himself was sitting at the man's left hand side with Gin sitting opposite him, on Aizen's right. Gin had taken to dressing rather casually considering how important the meal was, dressed in his favourite red sweater and combining it with some formal, black trousers. It made him wonder . . . did Gin really feel comfortable dressing so casually, or could he just not afford the same kind of formal wear that everyone else at the table could? Next to Kira sat a man called Komamura, who seemed – like Kira – to be there merely out of obligation to his boyfriend, and opposite Komamura sat next to Gin was a man named Tousen. He looked fairly handsome with skin ebony black and hair in fashionable cornrows, with clothes that matched his skin tone perfectly, and it was impossible to tell he was blind by looking at him.

Still, it was like the dinner party from hell . . . Kira had nothing in common with these people, nothing at all! His biological parents had died before he could remember them, and his aunt and uncle who had adopted him, who had allowed him to call them 'mum' and 'dad', were never so rich as Aizen was, and their dinner parties seemed a little more lively and less stiff. Here the conversations seemed mainly fixed upon stocks and shares, the latest legal strategies used in the courtroom, or – if they were feeling rather adventurous – the gossip going around in the law firm about people Kira had never met or heard of. His only consolation was that Komamura-san looked more bored than he was, and kept checking his Rolex in a way that he probably thought was subtle.

"Ah, but ya won't be too hard on poor ol' Luppi-san, will ya?"

Kira jerked his head upwards as he heard Gin's voice. It seems he'd again missed some of the conversation, and subsequently he had no idea just who 'Luppi-san' was, what he'd done or why Gin was worried someone would be too hard on him. It was only made worse by how Komamura-san noticed his sudden jump and expression of confusion, and in reply the older man turned to him and gave a sincere smile, one that Kira saw adults always use on very young children . . . He would have felt patronised if the older man hadn't shown Kira his watch and then rolled his eyes, obviously trying to say in his silent way 'yeah, we really have been here long enough, haven't we?' It allowed Kira to smile back and not feel so alone.

"I mean it ain't like he did anything too bad now, is it?" Gin continued.

There was a slight sound of disapproval next to Gin, and when Kira turned his head to see he saw Tousen-san looking straight ahead – not that it made much difference where he looked – with a rather sombre expression on his face.

It was actually a little amusing . . . Aizen sat with his head upon his hand, watching his two friends with sheer amusement, but with a slight calculating look that made him appear to be analysing the situation. Gin however had the most adorable kind of wistful pout Kira had ever seen him wear. It was one of his rare, sincere appearances, with his head titled slightly and eyes gazed upwards at an unfixed point, and his lips had pursed together in a way that almost made Kira wish to kiss them, he'd even touched a finger to his lips as if in thought, drawing more attention to his attractive features. Tousen, meanwhile, looked completely emotionless and objective, although his eyes hardened to give a sense of exasperation, and his hand hovered over his plate as he paused between eating to talk.

"I know that Trepadora-san is a friend of yours, Gin, but we must remain objective." Tousen took that moment to take a final bite from his nearly empty plate, and if Kira didn't know any better he would have said that the dark-complexioned man had purposely waited for Gin to begin speaking before he chose to continue. "He broke a rule of the workplace and for that he must be punished. We cannot ignore the indiscretions of others simply because it is convenient for us to do so, if we did that justice would never be served. Trepadora-san broke a company rule by having sexual relations in the workplace, and for that I must punish him. I shall give him a week's suspension without pay."

"Yeah, but it ain't like you've never had sex in the workplace before, is it, Tousen-san?" Ah, Kira knew that Gin's trademark grin wouldn't be stay gone for long, and of course now he'd found a source of amusement in teasing his companion it was back in full force. "I bet ya ain't even told Komamura-san about ya little escapade, huh? Kind o' hypocritical of ya to punish Luppi-san when ya ain't so innocent yerself."

"There are many things I could say about your statements, Gin, but I shall content myself to asking if whether or not you truly choose to continue this conversation in front of Kira-kun."

Kira found himself frowning as heard Tousen's retort. He'd learnt during the past hour and a half that Tousen was a man of very few words, but the words he chose to speak were often full of meanings and depths that even the most eloquent of people could barely touch upon. It was often as if he chose what he said very carefully, sculpting it so that only those he wished to know what he meant would fully understand it. Clearly Komamura was upset that his lover had some sort of workplace tryst, and frankly it made him seem a little possessive (well, assuming that it hadn't happened whilst they were dating), and clearly Tousen wanted to end the conversation before it could really get going. Seeing as Gin wasn't exactly the type to hold his tongue whatever it was that Tousen was implying had to be important enough to shut Gin up, something that would likely offend Kira . . . but what? It wasn't as if Kira cared what Tousen got up to in the workplace or when, so what reason did Gin have to suddenly go quiet like that?

Luckily for both Tousen and Gin it was that moment that Aizen needed to clear his throat. It seemed like rather fortunate timing actually, because although the two men seemed amicable enough every time they spoke there was tension in there tone, almost as if they secretly harboured a distaste for one another. If anything it seemed to Kira a little like sibling rivalry. He'd never had a brother or sister himself, or even any cousins, but he'd seen the way that Toshiro and Momo interacted and how Renji and Jinta treated each other, and it always seemed very much like the way these two Arrancars acted. There was an obvious air of hostility, but there was also a sense of trust and respect, something that Kira couldn't quite place. Still, it was lucky Aizen had interrupted them, even if it was accidental, because Gin's smile seemed quite sinister, his face dark in shadow, and his eyes glaring at Tousen, and Tousen's entire body was tense and taut like a bow ready to snap.

"I believe that Kaname is right, Gin," Aizen said with a bright but lazy smile, tilting his head in the process which made him seem rather childlike and innocent, "we unfortunately must address Luppi's indiscretion. It simply would not do to ignore it."

"It still don't seem fair to me." Gin pouted and folded his arms. He stared down at his nearly full plate as if it were the most evil thing he'd ever saw, and suddenly he seemed a little like a petulant teenager. "I mean ya overlooked that desk incident at the Christmas party an' all."

Aizen hummed lightly and jerked his head upwards, his smile fell into a relaxed but indifferent line and his eyes had widened behind his glasses in shock. Even his body seemed to mimic his emotional state as his shoulders slouched and he found himself unsure what to do with his hands . . . The strange thing was that the expression was nearly identical to the one that Gin wore when he was surprised, with only the subtle difference that whilst Gin closed his eyes Aizen seemed to blink two or three times. Of course if Gin really had spent as much time with Aizen growing up as he said, then it was only natural to 'inherit' some of the man's mannerisms in the process, right?

"The desk incident?" Aizen asked softly, "I believe I fired the people responsible for that act, did I not?"

"Huh? Yeah, I must o' forgot."

It would have been cute how Gin actually blushed a little and scratched at the back of his neck in a sign of nervousness, but the way his lips pursed and he gazed off into the distance before breaking out into a huge smile was rather suspicious. He was obviously hiding something, and Kira was willing to bet it was probably due to the fact that whomever Aizen had fired hadn't been the wrongdoer in the 'desk act', whatever the hell that was.

"T' be fair, Aizen-sama, I think everyone's been for a ride on ya desk at some point . . . It's hard t' keep track o' who's been punished and who ain't. Can't blame a guy for getting a little confused, right?"

That time Aizen really did appear quite stunned. His eyes widened to unreal proportions and he actually jerked backwards a little as if he'd received an electric shock, there was even a faint blush to his features. He pushed his glasses further up his nose, almost as if to distract himself from the information he really hadn't wished to hear, then lowered his gaze with a slightly nervous smile. When he looked up there was something in his eyes that Kira couldn't quite place, a sort of hardness or an edge that didn't seem to match his overall personality, but his expression was so serene and soft it was hard to say. If he was to judge by Gin's response however it wasn't an entirely bad expression, because Gin seemed to find Aizen's reaction fairly amusing as he grinned evilly.

"Perhaps that is a conversation for another time, Gin?" Aizen said in such a way that seemed both harsh and soft. His words were gentle but there was a slight emphasis to Gin's name at the end, and his words seemed slightly staccato, which made it hard to tell if he was admonishing his friend or merely offering a friendly suggestion. "I hope I do not sound rude, but I wish to move from talk about Luppi onto other matters. Have yourself and Kaname given thought to the matter about Hirako-san?"

To both Kira and Komamura's surprise it was Tousen who replied: "Yes, Aizen-sama."

"May I ask what you have concluded?"

"We have taken onboard all that you have said during our last meeting, Aizen-sama. We have made appropriate arrangements for your wishes to be actualised, and we have hired the help of several Espada, and two employees from other areas of the Arrancar Corporation, in order to do so."

"Excellent. In that case I shall expect to see Hirako-san promptly tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Aizen-sama."

It wasn't long after that dessert was served. Kira would have been as bored as he had the rest of the evening, that was if Komamura hadn't shown him such kindness and started a private conversation with him. The older man had talked in detail with him about Kira's schoolwork, offering some sound advice at points whilst listening patiently at others. He'd even taken a few moments to boost Kira's confidence by sharing with him some personal experiences, explaining that despite how he'd always been judged throughout his life that he'd found a soulmate in Tousen, and that he knew Kira was also destined for such happiness. Although Komamura was such a stoic personality he was actually very friendly, wise and patient, and not once did he ever take offence at any of Kira's misunderstandings. It was actually a relief to be able to talk to him, and he was actually beginning to think of the man as a form of role model. Most of all he was grateful for a distraction from the insanely boring dinner party . . .

The conversation going on between the three Arrancar men was less than amusing, it followed the lines of legal issues concerning some sort of scheme they had planned, and it wasn't as if Kira could have kept up with the technical jargon even if he had wanted to. By the time the talk was at an end Tousen and Aizen had finished their desserts, and Gin's ice cream had melted into his cake looking like some sort of congealed mush. Kira sincerely hoped that the end of desert meant it was soon time to leave, and judging by Komamura's behaviour so did he, but luckily it seemed that the evening really was finally at an end. The servants came to take away the dishes and refill the wine glasses, but otherwise there were no more courses and no more food given to them. Soon enough everyone had begun to stand up and seemed ready to leave. If Kira remembered his parents' parties properly then they'd probably be heading into the lounge for drinks, and more conversation, a thought that was sobering to say the least. He truly doubted he'd be able to stand one minute more listening to such topics, but if he had to then he would for Gin's sake, although he certainly wouldn't enjoy it.

Luckily Aizen gave them an option out: "If you and Kira wish to stay for the night then your room is – as always – in the exact same condition as you left it. I would not deny you the option of staying here if it is more convenient for you both, however if you both wish to return home I would suggest doing so now. I have heard it is due to rain later and I would worry knowing you were driving in such dangerous conditions."

"Ja! That's nice o' ya, Aizen-sama, but little Izuru and I should probably be headin' home, ya know? We both got school tomorrow an' I haven't got a change o' uniform here, neither has Izuru, an' we can't show up t' school lookin' so casual!" Gin smiled brightly as he nodded in acknowledgement to Aizen, and then gave a rather innocent smirk in Tousen's direction. "Besides last time I stayed the night someone hogged the bathroom all mornin' with his boyfriend! My, I was so late for school that day and my class weren't happy at all! I really can't have that happen again now, can I, Aizen-sama?"

"I believe," said Tousen calmly from behind him, "that you were late because you'd drank heavily the evening before and were severely hung-over. You also spent a full hour making a breakfast that you didn't eat. I would suggest that your real reason for not wishing to spend the night lies in the fact that you are aware of the surveillance, and that you wish to engage in activities that you do not wish to be caught on tape."

Kira knew he was slightly naïve at times, but even he couldn't miss the glance that Tousen sent to his overall direction, in such an eerie way that it was almost as if he could see exactly where he stood and the expression that he wore.

He felt as if he was stuck in the middle of something but didn't know what. He'd gotten somewhat used to the bickering between Tousen and Gin, but it still hurt each time he name was used in reference to something, and always to something he didn't understand or know about. It didn't matter if it was simply a warning to Gin not to talk in front of Kira about mysterious matters, or a stolen glare to Kira when mentioning something seemingly irrelevant like the surveillance system, it hurt. It hurt to know that he really didn't belong with these people, that he was just being a nuisance to Gin in the same way that Komamura probably felt a nuisance around Tousen, and it hurt to know he was causing such hostility between these people without knowing how. He was used to feeling bad, used to the feeling of despair, but this -? This was guilt. This was pain that he could be the cause of so much negativity when Aizen had shown him such kindness, had invited him into his home like family, and that was a guilt he couldn't bear to carry on his shoulders. He really didn't know what he'd done, what he'd said but clearly Tousen thought he was the source of all the trouble, even if Kira had no idea how! It wasn't a feeling he enjoyed, and all he wanted at that moment was to leave, he didn't want to spend another moment where he wasn't welcome. He only hoped that Gin wouldn't leave him. Family was so important after all, what if Gin chose these people over him? What would Kira do then?

His main consolation was that at least they were leaving now. He'd be able to make sure Shuhei was okay and hadn't done anything stupid, and maybe if he apologised enough he'd be able to get Gin to forgive him . . . It had to be his fault that Tousen disliked him and that Aizen seemed to pity him, maybe he just hadn't put in enough effort, or maybe he'd said something offensive during the course of the evening? Whatever he'd done he had to put it right! He had to! Gin was everything to him, his entire world, and if he'd done anything to hurt the older man then he wanted to do everything in his power to fix that. Sure he'd been tired and the party had been a dreadful bore, but that was no excuse, was it?

Kira almost jumped as Aizen put a comforting hand upon his shoulder and smiled warmly upon him, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Kira. I hope that we will meet again in the near future, and if we do I promise you the evening shall be more entertaining for you than it was today. I must apologise, but I had some urgent things that I needed to discuss with Kaname and Gin, I realise that they couldn't have been interesting for other's ears."

"Oh -! Oh, no, it was fine, Aizen-san! Thank you for inviting me!"

"The pleasure was all mine." Aizen removed his hand and gave a slight bow.

Kira watched with genuine interest as Aizen and Gin exchanged formalities, before Aizen himself left for one of the adjacent rooms, leaving with an air of grace that was so rare to see these days. It seemed that the two men were very close, and although they shared no blood relation it was clear they were truly very much like father and son. Gin would always tease and prod Aizen but ultimately he respected him greatly, and likewise although Aizen allowed Gin many freedoms and gave him respect, he also set firm boundaries that the other knew not to cross. The dynamics between the two was almost fascinating, especially the way they seemed to constantly be analysing one another, as if trying to work each other out. He was glad that Aizen seemed to like him to some degree, and touched that his lover could have such a considerate and loving relationship with his father figure.

When Gin came beside him with a bright grin he looked casually at the floor and tried not to blush, not too far away Komamura and Tousen left the room, with Komamura nodding to Kira in way of a goodbye. He tried not to shiver as Gin draped an arm over his shoulders, before leading him away into the direction of the cloakroom to retrieve their coats. He knew that Gin would want to go home with Kira for the night, in fact he'd already left several changes of uniform there for the nights he slept over when Kira's parents were out, but what with Shuhei spending the night he wasn't sure it was the best option . . . Then again Hisagi-sempai was very trustworthy and mature, surely he could be trusted to keep a secret?

"Ja! Time t' go home, ain't that right, Kira-kun?"

"O-Oh, y-yes, Gin."

Izuru blushed even more as Gin offered him a bright and sincere smile, stroking Kira's arm in a rather intimate manner. He loved this man more than anything in the world, and he could only hope that tonight he could show him just how much he meant to him, that they could forget about the embarrassment of the dinner party. He loved Gin, and tonight he was going to show him just how much.

Kira had been grateful that the car ride home had taken longer than usual. It had given him and Gin a chance to talk, a chance to have a conversation about what had happened without anyone else hearing or interrupting, and it had admittedly been a relief after the dinner they'd had. He'd been so scared he'd embarrassed Gin or ruined the meal for him! He'd been terrified that his boyfriend would leave him or hate him, that the evening had emphasised just how different they were, and he was certain that apart from Komamura-san everyone present had disliked him at least a little. Why wouldn't they? He didn't know anything about the things they'd talked about, he'd been too young to drink, and he was so painfully shy he didn't dare speak in case he said something wrong or out of place.

He was so sure he'd ruined the evening, so certain! Yet in the car ride back Gin had just laughed at him, telling him Tousen had just been pissed that Gin was breaking the law to be with a student, and Aizen and Komamura had both adored him, the very fact that Aizen had asked Kira to come again was evidence enough that Aizen had loved him. It seemed that the older man never subjected himself willingly to company he didn't wish to endure. Kira didn't quite believe it, after all it was only natural that his boyfriend would want to comfort him and make him feel better, even if he did spend most of their time teasing Kira or toying with his emotions. Gin loved him after all, so of course he'd lie if need be to make his lover feel wanted, needed and special, and Gin was notoriously known for his ability to lie and deceive, making him to most people the least trustworthy person alive . . . N-Not that Kira considered him untrustworthy, of course! It – it was just that Gin wasn't averse to manipulating situations to suit him, and if that meant lying to Kira to stop his self-esteem plummeting even lower, then wouldn't he do it? Even when he spent his time teasing Kira, he'd always end with a little reminder of how much he loved his student, always saying something to keep his self-esteem even and solid, whether it be a simply comment like 'ya didn't think I meant that, did ya?' or a compliment like 'see, this is why I love ya so much, Izuru! Ya just perfect!'

At the very least it meant that Gin still cared about him, right? If he was trying so hard to make Kira feel better, to make sure he felt loved and welcomed, then it meant that he cared he felt and about his well-being. You didn't care about someone like that unless you loved them . . . or felt a duty or responsibility to them, but Gin wasn't actually the dutiful sort, was he? Rangiku always complained how Gin would walk away from her and not contact her for days on end, sometimes even weeks, months, or years, always without a single word of goodbye. True, he loved Rangiku like a sister but that he obviously didn't feel any sense of duty to her, any need to make sure she felt taken care of and okay. So if Gin really wasn't capable of dutiful feelings, then surely that meant he was acting so kindly to Kira out of love? It would mean that Kira hadn't screwed up, that he hadn't lost Gin, that they were still an item!

It was a huge relief, like a weight lifted from his shoulders, and Kira wasn't able to stop from crying as they drove the last mile to his home. He couldn't quite explain it, but he just felt freed from the whole thing, as if he was finally just able to be himself, and it was strange that Gin was the only person to ever make him feel this way. When he was with the others he always felt chained down, repressed, always trying to act in a way to please everyone (except when drunk of course), but with Gin he was the closest to just being himself as he could be. He was always still shy, still introverted, but he could express how he felt and what he thought in a way he rarely could with his friends, and even if he were terrified of the reaction he'd receive he'd always know that Gin would never judge him for it. It was hard to explain, how he could be so nervous around Gin and yet still able to express himself in a way he otherwise couldn't around family and friends, and yet he loved that Gin made him feel that way. It was like - . . . It was like feeling alive, something he hadn't really felt even as a child, and it was a feeling he treasured.

Gin had carried on most of the conversation on the way home, explaining all the little inside jokes at the party that Kira hadn't understood, whilst talking badly about Komamura-san, although Kira didn't quite understand why he disliked the man so much. He'd even revealed his previous one-night-stand with Tousen, although he'd given such a sad and regretful look that it really did melt Kira's heart. He'd looked so forlorn, gazing at Kira with a sad but beautiful smile with eyes free from any hardness or deceit.

Kira couldn't help but feel jealous when he'd heard the news. He knew it was immature and ridiculous, but he couldn't help but feel a burning anger inside at the thought of someone else touching the man he loved! It was a strange feeling, something that gripped him inside and consumed him whole, like a black hole devouring all that touched it. He felt a mild sense of betrayal, despite how the event in question happened three years before they'd met, and he felt despair for how he hadn't been the only one to have Gin that way. He felt stupid, babyish even, and so immature for feeling like he did, but each time they made love it felt so special, sacred, something that only they got to share with one another, and to know that Gin had shared something so personal and intimate with someone else . . . It made him almost hate Tousen for it, even though the blind man had done nothing wrong! Kira didn't think he could be so possessive and jealous, but obviously he could, did that make him less of a man? It made him feel wrong, unjust. Yet he felt an odd sense of consolation knowing that Tousen – blind from birth – could not have seen the faces that Gin had made, that those were something only Kira would ever get to see, that those expressions were something special just between the two of them. He also felt a kind of pleasure at knowing that no one else had ever touched Gin the way that he – and unfortunately Tousen – had.

Gin was so beautiful, so perfect; Kira had really expected the man to have dozens of partners before him, to be an expert in everything and all things sexual. It – it was embarrassing to admit, but Kira felt like Gin was a man to be worshipped and revered, he was everything that people should aspire to be: smart, sexy, sensual . . . It – it just made sense to think that people would flock to him, that they would want to be with him, that they would worship him in any way they could . . . even if it was with their bodies. The thought had always made him despair, but it kind of made him felt insecure and weak too, always wondering 'am I good enough?' or 'were those others better than me?' It had been such a huge relief to know that there was only every one time, one person, before him and that he didn't have as much competition as he'd always thought. It also made sense too. It explained that although Gin had been so confident why he'd been so hesitant too, why he'd pulled faces of shock and surprise as if some of the things they'd done had been a first, and why he'd always insisted – no matter what – that Kira had been perfect in all that he'd done.

Maybe the dinner hadn't been so bad after all? It had somehow raised so many questions and insecurities, but in the end it had brought Gin and Kira so much closer together, teaching them about one another's hearts and pasts. It had been a gift in itself to know more about Gin and to understand him slightly, even if it was just ever so slightly. There was so much he still didn't know about the older man, but now he knew that – at the very least – he was loved, admired and cared for as much as he'd hoped. He knew that Gin thought of this as a serious relationship and felt serious about him, and he knew that he didn't want it to ever end. He loved Gin, and he'd readily admit it to anyone. There'd been a passing moment where Gin had joked that he should quit his job and work full-time for Aizen, so that then they could make their relationship public, and even though Gin was probably making a casual, hypothetical statement a part of Kira wished to God it could be true. He wanted nothing more than to be open about his love for Gin, to be public to the world.

They arrived quickly home. Gin had parked for a brief second beside the property gates so that Kira could lock them shut as they drove onwards, and then pulled in alongside Hisagi-sempai's car.

It looked rather ridiculous actually . . . Kira was aware his family were quite rich, and so the house was quite prestigious looking compared to most of his friends' homes, although it stopped short of having its own servants like Aizen-sama's had (albeit a maid did come daily to clean up, not that Kira would admit that of course). It was just that Hisagi-sempai's car was very basic, old and cheap. He was, after all, on a basic wage at work and if he ever went anywhere he'd always take one of Muguruma's cars, but now that they had broken up he had to resort to using his old car, so rarely used it was covered in an inch of dust. Gin's car wasn't in a much better state either, the only difference being that he kept it clean as possible in order to try not to embarrass Kira too much. Truth be told his parents would have killed him for letting those two park in front of the house like that, mainly because of how stupid it looked, two ancient cars parked in front of an upper-class house, but luckily his parents weren't home to complain.

They'd found Hisagi asleep and drunk in the kitchen when they'd returned, with at least two sake bottles lying empty next to him as he snored away. Gin, being Gin, simply smiled and went on ahead to the bedroom as he left Kira with his old friend, one who'd occasionally wake up only to burst into tears every moment or so as his slurred his words and interrupted them with the occasional 'Kensei'. It had been almost impossible to drag him to bed, so Kira gave up and dragged him into the conservatory instead. He dumped Hisagi onto the first sunlounger he saw and draped a blanket over him to keep him warm, hoping that the sunlight in the morning would sober him up enough to move back to bed, or at least the couch. He'd then quickly made his way back to his own bedroom, hoping that Gin was still awake.

He'd expected to see Gin sitting on the bed when he entered, either fast asleep in kitten-like pose as he curled up against the headboard with a large, feathered pillow, or sitting casually on the edge ready to pounce on Kira as he came into the room. What he hadn't expected was for Gin to be nowhere in sight! Hadn't Gin said that he was coming upstairs, hadn't he promised to stay the night? Where was he?

"G-Gin? Are you here?"

It was awfully dark; perhaps Ichimaru-sensei was just out of sight somewhere? It was possible that for once he'd curled up underneath the covers, or maybe he was sitting in a chair in the far corner amongst Kira's private library, or there was always the chance he was on the balcony, taking in the night air. He wouldn't have gone home or somewhere else without telling Kira first, would he? No. No, Gin wasn't like that! He was a decent human being, one who'd go to the end of the earth to find Kira and be with him, always by his side and always putting him first. He wouldn't just leave Kira, not without a good reason, not unless he absolutely have to, and even then Kira was sure he'd always be on his teacher's mind. So – so that meant Gin had to be here, didn't it? There was just no way that Sensei would leave him!

"G-Gin? Are – are you sleeping?"

He drew in a deep breath as he took a few shy steps into his bedroom. He really did hate the nighttime; it didn't matter that they lived in the city, somehow it always ended up completely black, the entire house blanketed in complete darkness. It made him even more nervous knowing that with Shuhei asleep downstairs he was forced to leave the burglar alarm off, just in case his friend set it off. There was no way of knowing just who was in the darkness or if in fact he was actually alone. The only slither of light came from the balcony doors, where the moon shone through and illuminated the bed in the far corner, making its four-posters seem almost silver in the natural light, and making the silk drapes seem opaque and unreal. Gin must have entered the room at some point, because a few of the drapes on the bed were down and blocking it from view, and the balcony door was partially open, allowing the netting to billow out in a slight breeze.

It was so eerie, so unnatural, and Kira was certain he could hear heavy breathing coming from somewhere within the room, but he couldn't place where! Perhaps Gin was playing a game with him, perhaps he was just teasing Kira and expected him to play along? What made the whole thing worse was how the noises seemed to move to and fro, sometimes by the bed and other times by the library, and occasionally he'd spot a shadow darting by the balcony doors. Oh, if Hisagi-sempai hadn't been so completely drunk he could have asked his friend to come with him to check out the noises! There was no point in calling the police after all, not when it was likely only his boyfriend playing pranks, but he really didn't want to check it out for himself.

He gave a soft sigh and slowly closed the door behind him, trying not to jump as he heard it click shut. He really did love Gin but sometimes his pranks went a little too far, if only his sensei could be more serious and work harder, instead of slacking off or playing practical jokes! All Kira wanted was to have a romantic evening making love to Gin, and instead the older man had turned the evening into some sort of real-life horror movie. Outside Kira could already hear the thunder churning and gurgling, threatening to break out into the storm that Aizen-sama had warned about, and the cold draught blowing through the room chilled him to his very bones. He trusted Gin with all his being, but he couldn't help but be somewhat scared by the fact his lover had suddenly gone missing, and how alone he felt at that very moment . . . His heart was racing like a jackhammer inside his chest, pounding away until it almost hurt to breathe, and his mouth felt dry from nerves. There was no reason to be scared, there wasn't! So why couldn't he stop his hands from shaking or his eyes from welling up with unshed tears?

"Are – are you here? I – I can't – I can't see you . . ."

Kira took in a shuddering breath and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, then began to take a slow walk into the centre of his room. He jumped as behind him he heard the sound of a door clicking, whether his bedroom door or a closet door he wasn't sure, but as he spun around he couldn't see anything at all. Then somewhere behind him he heard a soft laughing sound, something discreet and barely there. Oh, he hated these kinds of games! Even as a child he'd hated them, he could remember playing hide-and-seek at school as a child and crying when he couldn't find the other children. He hated not knowing, that feeling of being kept on edge, of wondering just who or what was out there and what it was they wanted. What if it wasn't Gin? What if someone really had broken into the house? What if they'd hurt Gin! What was he going to do then?

He froze. He could feel someone standing behind him, directly behind him so that they were almost touching, so that Kira's back was almost pressed against their chest. If – if it was Gin then wouldn't he had said something or wrapped his arms around Kira, surely he'd have reassured him in some way? What if Muguruma-san had broken in somehow in a desperate attempt to get Hisagi-sempai back? What if it was a burglar looking to steal something? No, it had to be Ichimaru-sensei; it just had to be! He was just playing a prank, a very cruel and very mean prank . . .

Kira made sure to turn around very slowly, in order not to make the unknown intruder edgy or take them by surprise. He'd hoped when he turned to look that he'd see that it was just his imagination, that no one was really there, but when he turned he saw that someone really was there. They were standing tall with a rather sadistic grin upon their faces, and just as Kira's eyes were about to adjust there came a flash of lightning from outside which blinded him to the tall man before him. There came a flash of pale skin, a menacing grin, and suddenly two bony hands reached out and grabbed him harshly about his arms, causing him to panic and try to scream as loud as he could for Hisagi to help him. Before he could let out a single sound he found himself thrown hard down against the bed, as another flash of lightning lit the room up and made it come alive, the shadow of the man coming over in the direction of the bed. He was rather disorientated by being thrown down against the bed, his mind hazy and dizzy as he tried to work out what was going on, but as he rolled over someone touched their hand against the posts and let the drapes drop closed. He was now cast entirely in darkness and enclosed in the bed, trapped like an animal. This – this wasn't a funny joke! Gin really shouldn't be teasing him like this, it was – it was just -!

It was then that the drapes on the far side of the bed were wrenched open and the man from before lunged at Kira, he tried to scream again but found a cold hand pressed against his mouth as the man sat firmly upon him, using his free hand to pin both of Kira's above his head. It was impossible to find breath, impossible to stop screaming from behind the hand, and then his captor bent down close and whispered into Kira's ear, his breath hot and moist on his skin.

"My, my, Izuru-kun," Gin said a tone too soft to match his actions, "ya really don't like surprises, do ya? Ja, it's such a shame . . . ya look so hot when yer all flustered an' scared. Makes me wanna do naughty things t' ya."

Kira found himself going incredibly tense at Gin's voice. That – that hadn't been funny at all! The man had nearly terrified Kira into a heart attack! Of course logically he had known it was just his lover playing a game, but there was no real way he could have been sure, and his heart had been hammering against his chest the entire time. It wasn't fair to play with someone's emotions like that, it just wasn't right! There was a strong part of him that wanted to hit Gin hard across the face, but the other part of him was saying no, saying that Gin had only meant it as a joke and to hurt in him retaliation would be overreacting. He was angry, but at the same time he loved Gin, and he didn't want to do anything to hurt him, although he was hurt himself by how Gin could scare him like that . . . His pulse was still racing and he wasn't sure how he felt, he was still riding out on his adrenaline rush . . .

"You – you really scared me, Gin," Kira said in a voice so low it was barely heard.

"Ah, ya know I didn't mean it!" Gins nuzzled Kira's neck so that when he spoke his lips brushed against Kira's skin, teasing him with what was almost a kiss but not quite, whilst his right hand trailed down to take a soft hold of his hip. "Ya got t' admit that this is goin' t' feel so much better with all that adrenaline in ya. It'll be a real kick, ya know? Ja! With my little Izuru-kun all sensitive an' alert I bet I can make him feel all sorts of new things! Yer'd like that, wouldn't ya? Yer'd like it if I made ya feel all good and hot?"

"G-Gin, please . . ."

Gin raised his head slightly to gaze down at his lover. Through the darkness and half-lidded eyes Kira could make out the rather hurt face of his lover. Gin's skin was pale and silver in the moonlight, his features barely visible as the light slipped in between two of the drapes, and his blue eyes were wide open so as to take in every inch of Kira's body. His smile had faded into a small, indifferent line and his expression seemed so serious, so concerned, when he smiled again it was sweet and caring, filled with emotions too powerful to name. All his weight was on his left arm, but with his right he raised it to stroke gently Kira's cheek, and it was then that Kira noticed Gin was naked save for a pair of pyjama bottoms he'd left at Kira's for those times he slept the night. It made him blush to know that his lover was so exposed and revealed, and he had to swallow hard as he looked down to see his body so naked before him, something that Gin noticed and smiled at.

"Yer really scared, huh, Izuru? Ja, I promise I won't scare you again, cross my heart an' hope t' die," he leant down to press his lips chastely against Kira's and smiled warmly. "Don't suppose yer'd let me make it up to ya?"

Kira swallowed hard and nodded.

"I love ya, Izuru."

"I – I love you too, Gin."

The smile on Gin's lips as he said those words seemed so genuine, so warm, that it made Kira lose some of his previous anger and give a nervous smile in return. He found himself lowering his head and turning away, embarrassed by his own nervousness and appreciation of Gin's sentiment, and he just knew he was blushing like a schoolgirl! It was as if he was trying to hide further and further away by pushing himself as far into himself as he could, almost like a hedgehog curling up in sight of a danger. Luckily Gin seemed to find his actions adorable, or at least that was judging by the soft smile and how his bony fingers came up to clasp Kira's chin, gently turning his head so that he could look his lover in the eyes and silently express how much love he felt for the other man. It made Kira gasp and blink to see such an expression, it overwhelmed him to see such love and lust in one person's gaze, and he couldn't help but wish that the moments like these would never end.

"Yer so cute, Izuru."

He opened his mouth to respond but right away Gin broke the distance between them and kissed him passionately. It was strange, but each time they kissed it felt as if it was their first. Kira would always take in a sharp, nervous intake of breath and feel his hands clench shut, and then he'd ease into the kiss and feel his body relax. He'd find himself becoming alert to everything Gin did, and find himself falling in love with Gin all over again, as if it was the first time they'd met.

The first time they'd made love Gin had kissed him for almost the entire time, it had made the whole thing so much more romantic and intimate, and Kira remembered feeling so much closer to his lover because of it. He remembered when he cried afterwards how Gin had kissed him again, telling him how much he'd relished being close to Kira, having a physical reminder of how much their love had grown, and he remembered how Gin had kissed away each and every one of his tears. He loved how Gin always made him feel so special, so unique and so loved, and how every kiss always made him feel so alive and contented. Even their stolen kisses in Gin's office, even their clumsy morning kisses after a night of making love, every one always felt so heartfelt and sincere, as if each and every one was a symbol of their love for one another. It made Kira's heart swell every time.

Gin had draped his body over Kira's, so that Kira could feel his every breath and heartbeat. His hands roaming over Gin's warm skin, stroking his flesh lightly with his fingertips, exploring every inch that was his lover as he lost himself within the kiss itself. His lover's hand came up to cup his cheek, slowly stroking circles with his thumb as they deepened the kiss. Kira could feel his body burning with need, his erection beginning to press up against Gin's as the adrenaline rush hit him along with his arousal, and he could feel himself beginning to lose his breath. Gin's free hand was working at the buttons of his shirt, fighting its way between two hot bodies, and all Kira could do was gasp and moan as he allowed his lover to undress him.

Soon enough his shirt was opened and he could feel his lover's flesh pressed tight against his, the skin-on-skin contact almost erotic and so intimate that Kira could feel his heart beating faster than ever. Gin's chest felt so hot against his own, his ribs so prominent and his muscled body so clear and defined, and he loved being so close to his lover. He arched his back as the kiss grew more intense. Gin's tongue probed him with interest, exploring him as if it was their very first kiss, his breath warm and moist upon Kira's mouth each time they pulled apart for air, and his lips soft like silk as he pressed them relentless to Kira's rougher pair. His hand began to snake down Kira's body to his waist, holding him still as he continued to take advantage of his prone state.

Kira found himself wanting more. His hands reaching down to push the pyjama bottoms off of Gin's hips, as he used his feet to push the offending material down those handsome legs and pull them off from Gin completely.

When he looked down he swallowed hard. Gin – Gin looked so perfect as always! His body was flawless, so thin and yet so frail, it made him look so vulnerable and in need of protection, something that made Kira swell with desire. His skin even in the darkness and the thin thread of moonlight looked spotless, free of any and all blemishes and so silver and pure it was almost unreal. Kira couldn't help but break the kiss as he ran his hands up and down over his lover's body, feeling the way Gin's muscles would flex under each touch, and relishing how Gin would gasp each time Kira traced a fingertip over one of his erect nipples, teasing the nub further into hardness. When he looked down further he could see Gin's member erect and weeping, it's long length but thin width making it look like something ethereal and beautiful, something that was more divine than human, and the very sight of it had Kira moaning and writhing underneath his lover.

The first few times they'd made love Gin had always been underneath, and each time Kira had been terrified wondering how something so long would fit inside him without pain, but the first time he'd allowed Gin inside him there hadn't been any pain at all. Gin had been so gentle, so patient, taking care to prepare him in every way possible so that there was nothing but pleasure for Kira, and from that moment on Kira had enjoyed every moment that they'd made love and given himself freely to Gin, trusting him to do whatever he wanted with his body.

"G-Gin! P-Please, I -!" Kira gasped and threw back his head as Gin's hand pressed against the crotch of his trousers, massaging him through the thick material, "I need more!"

"My! Yer so hot when ya take charge like that! Kind o' makes me wanna get taken, ya know? Or do yer want me to take you instead?" Gin asked with a devilish smile, his eyes narrowed into sadistic slits as he quickly undid Kira's trousers and loosened the strain on his bulge. "Do ya want me deep inside ya, Izuru-kun? Do ya want to feel me in ya?"

"Gin!"

Kira groaned loudly and clawed along Gin's back as the older man snaked his hand inside Kira's boxers, holding his length firmly in his grasp as he stroked slowly up and down his length, his wrist aching at such a strange angle but enjoying the sounds his lover made. On each upstroke he'd dip his forefinger loosely into Kira's slit and find himself losing his breath as Kira almost growled out, his voice would be so low and needy, so desperate and full of desire, it was erotic at its best! On each down-stroke he'd purposely reach as far back as he could, teasing Kira's balls as best as he could, licking his lips as his blond boyfriend mewled and writhed under his ministrations.

It was getting to be too much, too hot. Gin needed Kira as much as Kira needed him, and so he removed his hand and slowly removed his boyfriend of his trousers, pulling them off at a sinfully slow pace so as to kiss every inch of thigh, knee and calf as he went. It seemed to drive Kira insane, and the moment his trousers were off he pulled Gin back upwards and kissed him passionately, not stopping until both were in desperate need for air.

It was then that Gin pulled away from the kiss, and moved his lips to Kira's neck where he proceeded to lightly nip and suck, presenting his lover with a love-bite large enough that it would be impossible to hide. All Kira could do was moan loudly as his hands wrapped themselves deeply into Gin's hair, holding him tight as he spread his legs wide and let Gin nestle in between them, pushing their naked groins against one another. There came a noise somewhere of a modern love song, one Kira recognised as 'Truly Madly Deeply', but he was too far-gone in pleasure to know or to care. All he could concentrate on was Gin's lips upon his neck, or how his lover was beginning to thrust lightly against him in a small but noticeable pattern, and with each thrust it'd send a bolt of pleasure running through his veins.

It was then that the love song from before seemed to stop and a new one began to play, it jostled Kira from his thoughts because he knew that Gin hadn't put on any music recently, and surely Hisagi-sempai was too drunk to find the – the - . . . Oh God! Kira forgot everything as Gin's finger slipped inside him, feeling his every ridge and pressing on every muscle, it always felt so strange and foreign to feel his lover inside him, and he couldn't help but clamp around the intruding finger involuntarily. When Gin pressed that certain spot inside him he actually screamed out and clutched hard upon his lover's shoulders, before pulling him into a deep kiss.

The next thing he knew there was the horrific sound of a guitar being brutally played, and the screaming of something that sounded like 'Shuhei!' Gin and Kira had no choice but to break apart as they quickly tried to decipher the awful noise that seemed to break through into the bedroom, the screeching was truly killing the mood and Kira could already feel his erection starting to flag as more screaming took place.

Gin looked positively venomous at the prospect of their night being ruined by some hideous singing and guitar playing, and Kira was already planning to kill Shuhei in the morning for his late night karaoke and guitar playing. The strange thing was however that the song sounded . . . English. Come to think of it, wasn't the last song in English too? Kira was relatively fluent in the language as his parents travelled often abroad, and they made sure to teach him several languages as a child, and thanks to Momo's cousin Toshiro he'd been introduced to many English-speaking bands, and thus knew many of them better than the Americans and English themselves did. The problem was that Hisagi wasn't fluent at all in English . . . sure he could say 'where is the bank?' and for some reason 'you're a damn good lay', but he couldn't sing in English. What song was it anyway? Ah, I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing, it was one of Kira's favourite songs by Aerosmith, but who would be singing that at -? Oh God, please let him be wrong about this!

"Muguruma-san!" He gasped.

"Eh?" Gin rolled off from Kira and wrapped a sheet around his waist, hiding his erection from sight, "Ya know it's rude to call out another man's name, Izuru-kun, makes me feel bad when ya do."

"Oh? Oh no! I meant that's Muguruma Kensei singing outside! He – he must be trying to win Hisagi back and came to the wrong window, I bet he doesn't even realise that Hisagi is in the conservatory sleeping off a hangover!"

"Ja! Well I'll fix that then!"

Gin quickly removed himself from the bed and closed the drapes that were partially open, leaving Kira cast in darkness. He huffed slightly at being locked away in the dark and instead crawled to the end of the bed, and then stuck his head out through the drapes and looked about the room. It wasn't that hard to spot Gin in the silvery moonlight and flashes of lightning. His lover was moving about the room like an angel, seemingly indifferent to the pain of being so aroused or the howling sound of the wind and rain outside, instead he picked up a full can of deodorant and headed directly towards the balcony doors. Kira was about to get up and ask Gin what he planned on doing when he saw the man yank back his arm, then heard Muguruma scream out in pain and let loose a stream of expletives.

"Ya at the wrong room!" Gin screamed out. "Hisagi-kun is out back in the conservatory! Ya might wanna try a more romantic song too, an' one people can understand! Ja, Ayumi Hamasaki's got a nice sound, ya know?"

Kira didn't hear the reply that came, but it sounded pretty violent and heated. Luckily Gin closed the balcony doors about then and turned back towards the bed, he looked hotter than ever now that he was covered in water droplets and with mussed hair, and the way he sauntered over with a swing in his hips made Kira's mouth water. He truly looked like a god when he moved like that, and Kira wanted nothing more than to run his hands all over Gin's body, but when he reached up to pull Gin down onto the bed the older man pulled away with a sad sigh.

"Ah, I guess ya didn't hear Muguruma-san, ne?"

Kira shook his head.

"Seems that ya parents are back home, Izuru-kun. They pulled up beside him whilst he was getting' out his guitar, they'll be up any second, ain't even worth tryin' to get dressed, ya know? Wouldn't have time and would only look more suspicious."

Okay, now that was definitely not what he wanted to hear! His – his parents were home? Part of him felt relieved that at least they wouldn't catch him making love to Gin, but at the same time he was terrified of their reaction, he just knew that they'd make a big deal out of this! He knew it! Oh God, he couldn't even hide Gin behind the drapes or in the en suite because they'd have surely seen his car, and what were they going to say? What would they do to him? And – and -! Oh God, he couldn't breathe, this wasn't going to go well, not at all and especially not with Hisagi drunk and asleep downstairs with his abusive boyfriend singing songs to him! How was he going to explain all this?

"Ja, look on the bright side," Gin said cheekily with a bright smile, "It's not like they have to worry 'bout ya getting pregnant, right?"


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

"I'll give you an ultimatum, Yumichika. Either you tell Ikkaku or I will. And I assure you, if I tell him, my words will do you no favours."

In his own way, he knew once those words left his mouth… his explanation, what had happened… it would all come crashing down. There had been so many times he'd imagined telling Ikkaku his secret. In every scenario, the bald man would look disgusted; he'd push him away…

And now, here he was, chasing the love of his life down the street, back to the dojo, from where they'd been sitting on a bench in the park.

"Ikkaku, wait!"

"How could you hide something like this from me?"

"I-If you hadn't started a fight with those guys in the first place none of this would have happened, Ikkaku! I begged you not to go out looking for trouble after what happened last time!"

"Oh yeah, you'd have liked that right? That way your little secret would have stayed that way!"

He rushed to him now, catching his lover by the shoulders and forcing him to face him, with much more strength than he'd normally demonstrate in front of him. Never before had his heart been pounding like this – he'd never been in a situation where he'd lose someone like this…

"Don't you dare walk away from me, Ikkaku Madarame? Can't you understand how terrifying it is when you just disappear or run off and appear in hospital the next day?"

Firm hands rose up and shoved Yumichika hard, sending him stumbling backwards.

"I can't believe you – looking down and lecturing me when you've had training! Was it fun looking down your nose at us all? You're such a fucking hypocrite! I can't even look at you – and I fucking knew there was something going on with you and Hisagi!"

"It was just that one time – we just kissed!"

"And what's that – another lie? Did you tell Renji something similar when you were fucking me behind his back?"

"It's nothing like that! I'm not fucking him – it's not the same at all! I love only you…" he could feel his throat tying in knots as he spoke, "I-I was just frustrated – I should've told you what I could do… I shouldn't have hidden that part of myself – I was just so -! I was scared you'd reject me!"

"W-Well…" he'd never heard his lover's voice tremble like that, "Well… consider your fears well grounded. It's over."

For a moment he didn't even recognize himself as he heard a shrill voice practically scream out…

"No – it's not – it's not over!"

Yumichika broke into a run as his lover stepped through the gates back to his home; he grabbed Ikkaku by the shoulders and pushed him against the wall, holding his shoulders tightly as he kissed him powerfully. He could feel his own tears running down his face; the kiss was clumsy, passionate only due to the desperation of not wanting to lose him. For a moment, Ikkaku kissed him back, his hands rising to Yumichika's shoulders… and then he pushed him off, his breath slightly ragged from the kiss.

"Get out of here, Yumichika."

His legs moved as if on automatic, his feet turning him and carrying him further and further away from Ikkaku. His arms were shaking and he could feel his throat tensing as he fought back every rampaging emotion dancing through his body like wild fire.

For as long as he could remember, he'd been scared of abandonment. It was one of his… less attractive features. Perhaps it was due to having a father who came and went over the years, never consistent enough but loved more dearly than anyone. Yumichika had been so scared of him returning because no matter how great his dad would be, Koga's return was always leave him second-guessing himself in case his behaviour caused the man to leave faster. Every time he'd open up his heart, and every time his heart would break when his dad left. It made him put a lock on his heart and watch that lock very closely. So people would never get close enough to hurt him.

Once someone was let into his soul, they'd see he wasn't very beautiful in his heart… almost like that Cullhlhourne had said; then they'd reject him and he'd have to deal with it. He'd never felt more anxious than he did today as he collapsed onto the ground half way back to his apartment.

Byakuya Kuchiki glanced at his reflection in the mirror of his car, as he drove towards the Zaraki training school. In a way he wondered if he was insane for going through with this second date. Especially considering how it came about… the older man said darkly, "So when are we doing this again?"

Without even thinking, he found himself replying, "Is next Thursday appropriate for you?"

It lead him to ask himself the question over the next few days… why had he answered him that? All the other man had asked of him was one date – when during the two hours they spent together, did he decide that he wanted to repeat this, to offer the chance of getting closer – another date would… lead to the possibility of a relationship with this man?

Byakuya brushed up his tie, letting out a deep sigh, as he turned down the street, applying a little pressure to the brakes. His ride here tended to switch between fast and slow… he was, in his later years, attempting to drive himself more and use the chauffeur less. Everything he'd done as a young man had been done with care, his mother died shortly after Rukia was born; his father had always been fickle, always off doing something else. Their servants under the watchful eye of their grandfather raised him and Hisana. Any person in their life, tutors for lessons, tutors for horseback riding, and tutors for driving when Byakuya reached his late teens… had all been judged to assure they were the best possible option for children of the Kuchiki Clan. He could remember the man who taught him to drive; he'd been a sketchy, stiff-faced man who was dangerously thin and jittery. He kept saying it wasn't important for him to master driving completely – as he'd always have the opportunity for a chauffeur. Since he passed his test – and he was sure they ignored the curb he hit… three times, the cone he knocked over and the red light he stalled at… because of he was a Kuchiki – his driving had only gotten worse.

He hoped Zaraki would have means of driving to… wherever they were going for today's date; because he could imagine that arrogant man's cocky smirk right now – as he stalled again. The Kuchiki bowed his head as he switched the car off and frantically started it back up, wincing as the accelerator shot forwards, the car jolted… Any car fan would have considered it abuse to see the Mercedes Benz jolting and stalling like that… Damn it… what was he going wrong?

As he managed to set the car off again, now moving slowly, but smoothly down the street, Byakuya considered the last date… smirking gently as he considered the very fact he enjoyed himself was a complete surprise; there was a rugged charm behind Zaraki-Sensei… one he was almost sure he could get used too.

The man was quiet and to the point, but not at all shy about his thoughts or feelings. He was brash and self-serving, confident and not phased by making other happy, contrary to his own thoughts and feelings. Byakuya envied him – here was a man who was not afraid of saying what was in his heart. Kenpachi Zaraki was the utter contrast to Byakuya – and though he'd never say it to his face, he admired him for that. After all, being the head of such a prestigious family was no easy task. His conduct had to be exemplary; his every action was a model of what his family was. Now he'd earned a respectable name in the business world, the pressure was off, but not forgotten.

During dinner at the quiet and not too formal restaurant Byakuya suggested – appropriate for himself and Zaraki – they'd argued with heated small talk; he learnt about the other man's students and a lot about how he constructed his school. Here was the Head of the Kuchiki family, enjoying listening about common things and teenage thugs like Madarame-san. The training programme was so thorough and interesting. It almost surprised him that so much discipline and skill was involved; of course he knew what martial arts entailed, but he'd never had the time of day to properly consider it.

He had also learned, to his surprise, that the stern sensei had a daughter, a little girl of five years. Her name was Yachiru; instantly it got Byakuya wondered what sort of parent this man was… he'd skimmed over the unspoken fact that this little girl had to have had a mother. Especially considering the fact, from his glance at the photo Zaraki had taken from his wallet, the cute little girl didn't resemble her father at all. It made his heart ache a little as he thought about how he and his wife had once spoken of having children… he'd have adored the chance to have a little girl – in that respect, perhaps Zaraki-sama was the more fortunate of the two. Byakuya swallowed a little, thinking back to Madarame-san's words… about how he had made Rukia miserable. Maybe any child he'd have raised would end up miserable also. It exposed his fears that perhaps that Rukia hated him in her heart.

He was grateful that she watched him with such respecting eyes. She was a humble, good-natured child. Naturally, Byakuya had his fears as he took in his sister of twelve – he hadn't seen her since Hisana and Rukia left with their father. What right did he have to rule over a child who had grown up far away from him, not even knowing her heritage as a Kuchiki?

One thing however, had caught his attention on a more personal basis… it was the photograph Zaraki had produced from his wallet. It was small and the camera quality was clearly poor… but it was a photograph of Zaraki-Sensei and his daughter, stood with twenty of his students, all smiling, some taking on dramatic kung-fu poses, others holding bamboo swords. He'd recognized Madarame-san stood on Zaraki's left; he was the only bald student, so he'd pretty much stood out. It was the man beside him that caught his attention. A good looking slender young man with a dark bob cut in expensive looking clothes rather than loose fitted dojo uniform.

"And who is that?" he'd asked, chuckling lightly, "He doesn't look like one of yours, Zaraki."

"That?" The man had squinted, reaching out and taking it back, before sighing, "That's Ikkaku's boyfriend, he's a model, works for those Vizard guys, Yumichika Ayasegawa."

It struck him there; he'd seen that face all over town. But he'd never really taken a good luck, after all; one doesn't gape miserably at every billboard of bus stand advertisement. It simply wasn't the sort of thing he paid any mind too. It wasn't until Zaraki said the boy was named Ayasegawa that it really struck his memory.

His father had a secret shame, during the years before Rukia was born; Koga Kuchiki disappeared off to spend his nights with a secret lover. The woman's identity was learnt after his father passed away in prison when Rukia was eleven or twelve. Apparently she had dated his father when the two of them were young, and she'd served as his secret mistress during the less fortunate years of his marriage many years later. Her family name was Ayasegawa: a single mother with three sons, the eldest two were the spawn of her husband who died during his army days. The third son, Yumichika Ayasegawa, was the bastard of Koga Kuchiki and this woman.

After his father's death, Byakuya and his lawyer visited Ayasegawa-san in person at her home. He felt only disgust for the woman as she looked away when his lawyer told her Koga Kuchiki was dead. She was two years older than his father, and it was clear she had been beautiful as a young woman; her boys all had the same wisteria eyes. She was reasonable, she understood the situation Byakuya was in… having a father who died in jail would shame the Kuchiki family enough, without a secret mistress and a poor bastard child bought into the equation. But he loathed her on sight; in a childish way he'd blamed her for what happened to his family. Even during the time his father had lived only with Hisana and Rukia, he came away from them to see this woman's beloved son.

That day they paid her off for her silence: they gave her money so Yumichika Ayasegawa would never know he had inheritance to the Kuchiki family. He'd never know that the money the Kuchiki Clan paid his mother sent him through education. Byakuya remembered leaving the house; he passed the boy on the way out. He wouldn't have been very old, fourteen or fifteen; he looked different back then. He wore his hair longer, tied into a short ponytail, and his clothes were sharper… like some sort of cat-walk style Yankee… He'd listened for a moment outside the apartment; the two of them had quarrelled… from what he'd heard the boy was anxious about his father. From the sound of his words, whenever an official looking person came by, the boy was sure he'd hear news of Koga. A part of him felt guilty, achingly guilty as he heard the boy shout after his mother as she disappeared into the back rooms.

"Where is he, Mum? Where's my dad?"

During moments like that, he'd have to acknowledge that, perhaps, he wasn't the only one who struggled… who hurt in times like this. Although he did little, to nothing towards it, he knew Rukia was hurting. He just… didn't know how to approach her, how to help her. It left him with an inconsolable anger for his father; a selfish man who lived on his whims and impulses, which messed up every child he ever spawned. He couldn't even bring himself to pretend he was sorry for his death when he attended the funeral, and he certainly wouldn't let Rukia attend. Her heart was broken after the death of the care-worker Koga shot. She blamed herself because she was like Byakuya himself.

Byakuya leant his head down, rubbing his temples, releasing a tiny groan, before he pulled back, parking his car outside the training school. God, he sighed, what was he letting himself in for? He felt so twisted and alone… was it really something he could let a person into his heart for?

"Hey," drawled a cold voice, and fingers tapping against the window of his car, "You gonna let me in or not, Kuchiki?"

He stared up at Kenpachi Zaraki… who was looking down at him with that same stern, cocky expression. When their eyes met, his mouth drew into a smile – or a smirk, would probably be a better way to put it. For the strangest reason, almost beyond his comprehension, he felt a tranquil sense of peace come over him. An unusual feeling that despite his fears… everything would work out.

"No," he sighed, "and get your hands off my car."

He thought when he became a lawyer he'd never have to obviously break the law again… having an unlicensed gun didn't count, nor did any beatings he tended too… However, kidnapping someone never really came to mind. Yet here he was, sat in the back of a white van, waiting for Ulquiorra to come back with one Hirako Shinji-san from Vizard. Like most of his questionably legal activities, Nnoitra caught wind of them a few hours before they occurred; Stark rang him at stupid o'clock to tell him to get dressed and be outside in ten minutes. The fact that Stark was ringing him early in the morning was a fairly insane notion… Still, he'd dressed, rung Tesla to tell him not to get him coffee (which always served as an indicator to his assistant that he'd be off performing beatings and such… this also meant later Tesla would make a ridiculous scene (like last time, he'd asked him loudly, in front of several of Halibel's assistants, 'Nnoitra-sama, did you kill anyone?')), and found himself on the way to kidnap a CEO.

It was a sorry looking bunch, Grimmjow was sat in the driver's seat, wearing a baseball cap rather low down to hide his face and his jacket collar done up; rather looking like he'd been forced into this. Most likely by Ulquiorra, who was the only one who looked prompt and ready to act… bloody asshole. Stark looked like hell, he kept rubbing his eyes and dropping off to sleep in his seat beside Nnoitra in the back. (These seats were more like conveniently placed boxes, any sharp turns sent them jerked forwards and swearing at Grimmjow) And worst of all, sat opposite him, looking rather exhausted, was Szayel.

To say he wasn't over the over man would be simply ludicrous… every time he was in his presence he was consumed with the shame of what he did, and the regret that he wouldn't be able to hold him, or kiss him or fuck him ever again. In fact he was sure if their elbows accidentally brushed, Szayel would avoid him for a month. How was he expected to move on when he was still in love? How could he be expected to look at those perfect features, those deceptive dark eyes and taunting smirk… and not want him?

Another sharp left sent him jolting backwards, grunting in pain he reached over Stark to bash his fist against the wall separating them from the driver's compartment, "Hey, Grimmjow! Where did you learn to drive, you fucking bitch?"

He was sure he heard the blue haired man shouting back, "I'd like to see you do better, asshole!" But it didn't really matter, Nnoitra sat back, smirking a little to himself at how Stark was unmoved by the sharp turns, slumped slightly onto the side, noticeably snoring now.

"I see your language hasn't improved," Szayel said suddenly, breaking the hideously awkward silence in the back of the van.

It surprised him a little that the pink haired man would bother starting a conversation between them. Perhaps he was bored by the quiet… after all; nobody wanted to be utterly quiet with just the sound of Stark's snoring to show there was any life in the car.

"No, it hasn't," he said awkwardly. He wanted to say something else, he wasn't sure what. In fact, it was difficult to know what to say to Szayel. It had been so long since they'd been together socially or conversed at all, he had no idea where he stood with him anymore. Every day he craved getting things back how they were. The more time passed, the further and further Szayel became; it was clear that his heart had been deeper than Nnoitra had ever known. Every time they were together all he could think of to say was, 'I love you, please don't turn me away again'. It was utterly pathetic; he wasn't supposed to be a slave to his heart like this. It was damn undignified… he'd voiced all of these horrible miserable feelings about Szayel to Tesla, and he'd felt like such an idiot for it.

Szayel shrugged his shoulders and looked in another direction, eyes scanning across the boxes.

"Err," Nnoitra cleared his throat suddenly, finding a new string of words, "It was cold last night."

"I suppose so," he sighed dismissively.

"I mean… last night was the 1st of a new month… so you'd have been doing your… thing."

Now the pink haired man looked openly surprised, "You remember when I do my ritual?" His eyes widened slightly, turning to look at the dark haired man again, there was some humour in his tone, but mostly awe. Getting Szayel to look at anything in awe (that didn't have anything to do with medicine or technology…) was a task worthy of Aizen-sama. He was never surprised or admiring of anything, he went through life looking uncaringly at everything else around him. He said it to Nnoitra one night as they sat on the balcony of his apartment… but when he'd said it, he had such a sad look on his face. Almost like he wanted to be surprised and excited by life but he lacked the same emotional function as someone like Nnoitra or Luppi. In fact, if he thought about it, Nnoitra remembered thinking his lover looked really lonely, it was just like the expression he'd had when Nnoitra admitted he'd slept with someone else.

"Yeah, I remember you doing your thing," he laughed nervously, but kept his expression steady. "You had a routine, every first day of the month at night and at the end of every year just before midnight."

"Well," he spoke up, then held his tongue, a small smile spreading over his face, "well I never."

He was sure he saw a soft smile on the pink haired man's face, just the hint of one.

The van suddenly jilted to a halt, Stark jerked away, shouting rather loudly, "I wasn't asleep!" To which Nnoitra looked away, sniggering to himself, inwardly smiling that Szayel had done the same.

In a way he felt a considerable amount of pity for Stark. He was excellent at his job despite being lazy as hell, which was never a likeable quality… and he was ruggedly handsome in a way women would fall left right and centre for. Everyone thought of him as someone dependable, Ulquiorra never spoke down to him and Aizen-sama was prepared to pretty much let him do as he pleased. A flashy work intensive job as a P.I. didn't really suit someone as lazy as him, but Stark had a reason for accepting a job that clashed with his laid-back personality. It's not an easy world for a single parent; his wife had left due to, as Stark himself would put it on numerous occasions, "She just couldn't stand the sight of me anymore". His daughter spent her weeks bouncing back and forth between them, though spent considerably more with her lazy father as (despite how she tried to hide it) adored him. The guy spent so much time trying to make her happy. When you considered that, it was hardly a wonder he slept all the fucking time…

There was a bump and a slam as the van door closed, he could hear footsteps leading around it, then stopping as the person opened the sliding door. Light shot in like a very difficult rainbow… causing all three of them to wince, before recognizing the stern, apathetic face of Ulquiorra, whom Nnoitra was beginning to suspect of being a robot. He climbed into the back of the van with cat-like grace, half squatting and leaning in to address them. He was very short; Nnoitra had noticed this the first time they stood next to each other. Ulquiorra was scarcely taller than Luppi (who was fucking tiny), so it probably didn't help that he was always stood beside the likes of Aizen-sama, Tousen-sama, Grimmjow or himself.

"Are you all aware of the arrangements?"

The three of them nodded; it was fairly no shit as far as Nnoitra was concerned. Sit here quietly, put on your mask, Ulquiorra would message Stark once the target was close, then they were to leap out of the van and drag him inside. Szayel was to bind his hands, Nnoitra was to blindfold him and Stark was to shake him around a little to disorientate him so there'd be no chance of him discovering or recognizing the driving route to Aizen-sama's home.

"Yes."

"And do you all have your masks?"

Nnoitra pulled the balaclava over his head; he had it tucked into his hood as he always wore this jacket when he went out on his less than legal dealings. Stark put on a plain cheap Halloween mask, it was held together with a piece of string and made a 'thwack' noise if you pulled it. Szayel produced a rather extravagant mask, traditional of the style of the Japanese theatre. It had shiny metal pieces attached that resembled fangs and armour… If anyone else had been leading this mission, Grimmjow for example, they would have started snapping at him that he was taking the piss. Ulquiorra however just stared at him blankly for a moment, before turning his back and sliding out of the van.

"Be alert. I should send the signal in a few moments."

With that, the van door closed with a slight slam. And the remaining Arrancar employees sat in an uncomfortable silence.

Stark sidled up to the gap between the driving area and the back, tapping on it for Grimmjow to slide it across. They listened for a moment, hearing mostly the blue haired man's cursing and fumbling with the stiff sliding mechanism.

"What is it, Stark?"

There was a pause.

"What do you think of my mask?"

Nnoitra snickered; Szayel felt a smirk slide across his face.

"It's fuckin' beautiful."

Shinji Hirako had to wonder what he'd done in all his years to deserve some of the stuff that happened to him… Only he could end up with an assistant who blackmailed and bankrupted him… Only he could end up in a situation where he was at that same ex-assistant's mercy… again! Only he could try and get revenge and end up with nothing but a really gross flesh wound from where that Luppi character had bit his shoulder during their little rumble.

And now look was happening: crazy people were kidnapping him!

Last night had been a sham, and so had the last couple of days. Kensei had ended things with his boyfriend, he'd never said what had happened exactly, but Shinji saw a few people rolling their eyes. Though they'd never tell Kensei, there was a bet between the other seven of them – Lisa, Love and Shinji betting that Hisagi-kun had cheated on him (after all, Kensei's not spring chicken, and Hisagi-kun is), Mashiro, Rose and Hachi decided Kensei had done something (as let's face it, they all knew what he was like). Hiyori refused to make any comment, saying it wasn't fair to Kensei – which totally surprised Shinji as normally this was the sort of thing Hiyori jumped at (mocking the dilemma's and flaws of others whilst being totally ignorant to her own)… Kensei had been drinking hard, talking crap and not doing his work (Hiyori had taken over his duties for the time being – and she wasn't letting anyone forget it). He really missed that boyfriend of his… it was kind of sad.

Shinji had stayed with him for a bit, but last night he'd craved his own bed. However, because he was so scared of Kensei doing something stupid he couldn't sleep. Really late at night he'd woken up and tried to call the silver haired man – after Lisa rang him to inform him that she'd gone to drop by Kensei's place, to find it vacant. For the first few times, Kensei didn't answer… and when he did, all he could hear was slurred vocals and a guitar being brutally murdered. If it had been any earlier… Shinji would have worried… but it was… stupid o'clock in the morning, so he decided he didn't care – and Kensei could bother the general public with his drunken romantic escapades – Hirako Shinji was going to bed.

It was annoying to go to bed really late… then wake up really early – it had to suck for his normal bodily functions. When they were young, Kisuke once gave him a sedative to make him sleep… (It may have been in retaliation to Shinji's drawing on his face and painting his toe nails while the other man was sleeping and Shinji was not) This morning he'd woken up, sent Kensei a message – hoped the man wasn't in prison… drunk a carton of orange juice, wrote messages to himself in the condensation on the window. It was still very early when there was a knock at his door. Of all the people in the world, he really didn't expect to see Ulquiorra-san – he'd been hoping for it to be Kensei (safe and not covered in any blood).

When Ulquiorra looked shifty and asked him to 'walk with him', naturally his first fear was they were being bankrupt… or in an ethical dilemma – Kensei had killed Hisagi-kun – or something like that. Frantically, Shinji pulled on his coat and began to follow the other man out. They'd literally turned the corner when this bunch of bastards jumped them!

A guy with a baseball cap rushed forwards and grabbed Ulquiorra-san by the waist, the smaller man kicked and struggled before the man pinned him to the ground. Shinji turned to run; shouting for help – then a guy in a fucking balaclava gripped his shoulder and tried to yank his hands behind his back. Shinji had screamed and kicked him hard as he could in the groin. The bastard holding him was this hugely tall skinny guy, who keeled over a little, before jerking an arm out and practically ripping the hood off his coat. Shinji started sending mad flailing swipes at him, kicking him and landing a few blows. It was absolutely terrifying – he'd punched him in the stomach and turned to run off – when the man grabbed his shoulder and lifted him off the ground. Instead of holding him there, he threw Shinji hard onto the ground. He groaned in pain, opening his eyes, he felt a trail of blood running down his face from where his forehead had begun to bleed. He tried to struggle to his feet, panting – breathless from the force of being thrown into the floor – the next thing he knew, that bastard was on him, holding his arm behind him from behind… his captor was a little breathless too, panting and cursing quietly.

Shinji was cursing and trying to shout for help – what the fuck was this? If they were being mugged it was fucking ridiculous! He didn't have any cash on him… well, enough to buy him cigarettes and fuck all else… Ulquiorra would have more on him… he was working for Sosuke for fucks sake…!

"I don't have any money, ya fuckin' – he's got cash not me!" he was panting, kicking and trying to dislodge the man on him.

The next thing he knew, a fucking… punk in some sort of Bushido mask came rushing out of the alley, holding a syringe! Shinji started to scream – then he felt it jam into his shoulder… at first he'd panicked (and who wouldn't? Some crazy guy off the street giving you an injection?), but that felt… strangely medical. He began to struggle less, his head dropping against the pavement.

Stark climbed out of the van, yanking up his mask, "Geez, Granz, what was that?"

Szayel blinked, putting a cork on the syringe, his eyes narrowed as he took off his mask, "What does it look like I did? He wasn't going to stop thrashing about… and I really doubt Nnoitra would have kept his temper."

"Aizen-sama did want him back in one piece," Ulquiorra piped up, before turning his stony gaze back to Grimmjow, who seemed to be taking a little too much delight in pinning him to the ground. "I believe it would be good manners to let me up now."

Grimmjow smirked a little, flashing teeth, "Sorry, I always wanted to knock you down."

It felt a little embarrassing for him, as a nineteen-year-old boy, to have had a crush on the same girl for as long as he had. Rukia had attended to same primary school as him, although she was three years younger, he liked her then. They were the same height and both liked to read. But that wasn't why he started admiring her; despite her size, Rukia wouldn't take bullying from anyone, she'd stand up for the weaker kids and she'd never be cruel to someone who didn't deserve it. He liked to talk to her; he liked to listen to her talk about her day. One of his great pleasures was that they could be friends. He knew he'd been a little harder to get a hold of, now he was at college, training to be a doctor, but they made an effort to talk every week. It was a childish ambition, but one none the less… he wasn't good enough for Rukia, she was better suited to someone who could protect her… like Sado-kun or Ichigo or Renji-kun. Still, if he worked hard, maybe one day, he'd become the man Rukia could depend upon; that was what he hoped for.

He'd returned from college for a bit of break; Ganju was coming back around the same time so they'd taken the train together. It had been fun, a little bit of an ordeal when Ganju fell asleep and filled the carriage with loud snoring… not to mention the larger boy was prone to night terrors, at one point he'd yelled out really loud and kicked Hanataro's bag into the seats in front… jolting a rather intimidating looking guy with spiky green hair. Luckily Hanataro had managed to calmly dissolve the situation… or not, the train conductor did, making the guy sit down, and telling Hanataro to 'keep an eye on your friend'. They'd arrived back at Karakura, feeling relieved to be home… Ganju's older sister was waiting to pick them up in her car; Kukaku Shiba-san always caused quite a bit of attention. She was as stunning as he remembered: dark haired, green eyed (though she was wearing sunglasses today), huge chest, firm body – it was the sort of look all the boy's in class when they were kids just drooled over. Today she was wearing a baseball cap, a pair of very short shorts, and a loose fitted hooded sweatshirt. Kukaku-san had lost her arm when she was very young, and she donned a mechanical arm for tasks like driving and such. It made her slightly weaker on her right hand side, but the constructed arm was brilliant; Ganju told him Kisuke Urahara-san had created it.

He liked Ganju's sister, although she was a little scary – particularly strict with her brother… but it was clear she loved him very much… at least deep down. Hanataro had enjoyed the ride back with her, asking them how college was going, if Ganju was spending his money responsibly… it was almost like no time had changed and she was picking them up from school as children. Although as they drove towards the Shiba's house, Hanataro was already eager to see Rukia – he couldn't wait!

After he'd returned and unpacked his belongings, they'd all gone out they'd gone to Matsumoto-san's bar, Hanataro liked it in there, and it had been a lot of fun. Afterwards they all trekked back to Ichigo's house. It was quite a walk, but they were in a big group so it didn't matter as much. Hisagi-san and Kira-kun were walking back together; Madarame-kun and Ayasegawa-san went off together too. He'd walked with Rukia, she seemed in good spirits, though she did say that her older brother was behaving a little mysteriously and it would worry her, if he didn't seem to be in such a good mood.

They arrived back at the Kurosaki house to something of a dilemma. Ichigo arrived at the front door and was fumbling with his keys, managing to get it open and head straight into some late night family battle.

"Karin – come back and give Daddy a good night kiss!"

"He's gone mad, Ichigo!" The girl grabbed her brother by the front of his shirt, "Do something about him!"

Isshin Kurosaki came to the hallway, grinning widely, "Ichigo, you're home! And you bought your friends with you!" he went about snapping at his son to host properly, and complimenting all the girls on their 'youthful beauty'. They managed to escape up the stairs and into Ichigo's room: it was a bit difficult for all of them to get in, though it did prove manageable.

"I'm going to bed," Ichigo declared, "I'm tired and I have loads of studying to do tomorrow."

"Sounds good," Tatsuki admitted, "I have early morning drills. And Keigo isn't here to insist we play late night spin the bottle of something," she shuddered, climbing onto the bed.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" he groaned, "That's my bed."

"A gentleman would offer his bed," Tatsuki said simply, pulling up the covers and sliding in, "Rukia, there should be enough room for me you and Orihime in here."

Rukia just laughed, shaking her head, "Don't worry about it. I always sleep in the closet at Ichigo's."

Uryu rubbed his temples, "You say that so naturally, do you sleep here a lot?"

Ichigo groaned, "Oh yeah… Dad made a huge thing of awkwardly telling Grimmjow about it…" he began to put the spare blankets on the floor for the others to crash down on.

Renji chuckled, getting down in a spot at the far corner of the room, carefully placing out another blanket next to him, "You can… err… sleep here, if you want, Ishida."

Uryu looked a little embarrassed for a minute, then lay down beside Renji on the floor, pulling his blanket over him, "Thank-you."

Hanataro frowned a little, since when had those two been on such good terms? At college he shared his room with Ganju, who had the single bed, and Rin, his lab partner in Chemistry, who slept on the top bunk of their bunk bed, so he wasn't too fussy about sleeping next to a guy, but Uryu-kun had always been very anti-social. The only time Hanataro really spoke to him was when he did his work experience at the hospital Uryu-kun's father was in charge of. The younger boy was always there, though he didn't speak often, and at school he didn't seem to have many friends… unlike Renji-kun who always seemed to draw people to him. Perhaps they had become friends this school year?

Ganju spaced out on the floor, shooting Orihime a smile, "You know, this blanket is especially soft, Orihime-chan, I wouldn't mind sharing with you?"

Orihime laughed nervously, "Thanks, but no thanks. I normally sleep on a futon, so it's gonna be pretty exciting to sleep on a proper bed."

Ichigo laughed; only Orihime would describe something like sleeping on a different sort of surface as 'exciting'. He bent down to snatch the soft blanket off Ganju, "That's mine," he reminded him.

"Back off, I found it!"

Hanataro was thinking of sleeping near Sado-kun and Ichigo and Ganju… when Rukia's hand shot out and tapped his arm. She was smiling tiredly, "Hey, Hanataro, you can share the closet with me, if you like? There's plenty of room in here."

He really hoped he hadn't gone a funny colour as he climbed inside. She was right; there was a lot of room… mind you, Ichigo didn't really seem like the type to have a lot of clothes. He could hear the other's settling down back there, he found a comfortable place just opposite Rukia, using spare pillowcases and blankets for warmth. Right now, he felt very lucky.

"Hey, Hanataro," Rukia whispered gently, sitting closer, "Are you still enjoying college?"

"Yeah," he admitted, going a little pink, this was one of the first times they'd been alone together in ages. "It's nice, Rukia. I get a lot of work done and I think I've done well in the last set of exams."

She grinned brightly, "I bet you have. Do you still want to get a PHD and become a Doctor at the end?"

"Of course," he said proudly, "Hopefully I'll be able to work with Unohana-Sensei again. She was the one who encouraged me to go to medical school after all."

"I think you'll be just fine…" she drew off as another sound filled the room. He went to assure her it was probably just Ganju having yet another night terror or something… but no. He listened, it was a slightly… slurping sound, or light smacking… no… it sounded like someone kissing. He went red and shot Rukia a glance; she looked amused and mouthed, 'Who is that?'

Hanataro found himself smirking, "Ganju and Ichigo," he mouthed back, joking with her, pleased to have done so as they both began to laugh at the very idea of it. She had a pretty laugh, even when she was covering her mouth to hide it. After a moment, they both seemed to calm down; Rukia climbed up a little, pressing her face against the gaps in the wardrobe door, Hanataro following her to do the same. They peered around the room… Ganju was snoring lightly; Ichigo was fast asleep next to him and Sado-kun… Orihime had her arms spread out on the pillow, and Tatsuki was fast asleep at the bottom of the bed…

"Oh God," Rukia whispered, surprised and amused.

He followed her gaze and caught sight of Renji-kun and Uryu-kun on the floor. He could see a mass of red hair, Renji-kun on his side, one hand clasping onto Uryu-kun's shirt, kissing him deeply and breathlessly. Uryu-kun shoved him away suddenly, catching his breath, then his pale wrists shot out, holding onto Renji and climbing on top of him to begin the kiss again.

Hanataro looked away for decency's sake, Rukia doing the same. She let out a sigh and dropped her head against the wall: "That idiot," she breathed gently, laughing almost bitterly.

Hanataro shrugged his shoulders, "What on earth…"


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Shinji Hirako . . .

There was something almost curious about the man. He could be betrayed so many times, have his heart torn to pieces in front of him, and yet still find a shred of hope inside himself, enough to then entrust those pieces to someone else, thus beginning the cycle of betrayal all over again. True, he may argue that he 'saw Aizen's betrayal' coming, but that was a lie. Shinji had not seen anything. He'd suspected, he'd felt it, but he'd allowed himself to believe that he was superior, that simply knowing about the betrayal was enough. He had in effect lied to himself. He had stood at the top and assumed nothing could reach him, that by simply expecting such a dangerous blow it would be synonymous to preventing it. In the end it was that self-assured and arrogant behaviour that had been Shinji's downfall. His position had been ripped from him, and now it was Aizen who stood at the top.

How was it – that after so much – that the blond fool could still give his trust to those around him? Had he forgotten how easy it was to fall from great heights? Did he not realise his position of power could be wrenched from his grasp at any moment? The world was not a kind place, and there would always be someone reaching for more, striving to achieve the most that they could, people like Grimmjow, who fought to be stronger and stronger in his profession, or that sweet Orihime who strived to be less of a burden on those she loved. Everyone was reaching, reaching for that top rung of the ladder, and those a top the ladder must always expect that, always be on the look out, because one day you could be on the top looking down, and the next some innocent fool would cut you down. They would cut you down the same way Aizen had cut Shinji, and there would be no remorse, no regret, and no guilt. They would slice that position from your hands and hold it before you, making sure that the only regret felt would be yours as you realised your own foolish blindness had prevented you from acting. It would be your entire fault, but by the time you realised it then it would be too late. It would always be too late.

Shinji might choose to believe that the world was good, that people had an inherent goodness inside their souls, or that it was only Aizen who had the innate potential to use and abuse others, to twist their minds and souls to his own will, but that was not the case. Everyone was basically selfish: everyone. There was not one person who would not use another if it so suited him.

There were unintentional betrayals, the ones that made you doubt yourself and question where you placed your trust, small things such as how Hiyori so often attacked Shinji or how Kensei found it so difficult to take orders, often following his fists into dangerous public scandals. It surely hurt to have to do damage control for Hiyori's sake, or to read about Kensei's issues concerning domestic abuse in the local papers. Such actions had direct effects on all those associated with said individuals, and surely then it was a betrayal of sorts, no matter how implicit or subtle, seeing as your own life was damaged in the process of others leading theirs? Then there were the big betrayals, the ones you could never forgive. Like how Kisuke lied to Kuchiki Rukia when he was still a doctor, performing a surgery rather experimental and causing her lasting damage, or how Rukia herself had indirectly gone on to cause the death of one of the Shiba clan, or even the obvious of Aizen's direct betrayal of Shinji.

Yet time after time again Shinji placed his faith in people. It was a foolish thing to do indeed, for trusting someone was the same as depending upon them, and that was something only the weak did. The strong did not need to depend on others, to trust them. Shinji depended on so many people: the Vizards, Kurosaki Ichigo, Urahara Kisuke and – most interestingly – Cifer Ulquiorra. That was perhaps the most interesting betrayal of all. If only Shinji had not learnt to trust Ulquiorra, to depend on him, to follow him blindly, then maybe he would not be in the situation he was, maybe he would never have been betrayed.

Aizen smirked at the thought as he looked down at the man beneath him.

Kaname and Gin had both expressed concern about holding the 'meeting' in his private home, after all it allowed for too much to be taken for granted and too much 'trust' in the situation. What should occur if evidence was left behind, if the police somehow arrived at the scene, or if someone should witness Shinji being brought inside? Of course, Aizen had planned for all those eventualities, but he was not about to divulge such information to his men, after all, what if one of them should in turn betray him? No, that would never do.

He had Szayel and Grimmjow bring Shinji into his private study, and then secure Shinji before leaving his premises. He had been sure to watch the van of Arrancars leave the grounds of his home, and to make sure his entire staff were absent for the evening, then returned to Shinji to begin with his planned meeting. The blond was still entirely unconscious, his chin resting firmly upon his chest, and his eyes closed to all that was around him. He'd been tied to steel chair, which in turn had been drilled into the concrete floor beneath, making sure that escape was impossible, and the handcuffs and ropes that bound him were the best that money could buy. There was of course a firm blindfold in place to prevent Shinji from seeing until Aizen deemed it necessary, although he had forgone a gag in order to make their little 'conversation' to come more interactive and amusing. Luckily it seemed he would not have to wait long to begin their talk, for Shinji was already awakening.

The blond man was stirring and fidgeting where he sat, his body moving to and fro as if testing his environment, as if trying to work out the limitations of his own body and the strength that resided inside him. They were weak movements, little more that twitches really, just tiny jerks of his muscles as his mind slowly regained consciousness, his thoughts slowly clearing as that thick fog of the mind cleared. It was almost amusing to watch. It was like seeing a baby bird stretch its wings, or a foal stumble on its first step, for no matter how much Shinji strived to achieve competency over his body he – like those infant animals – would find himself unable to do anything, forced to rely on his captor. His mind would be sluggish from the medicine, he would feel nauseous too, and his muscles would ache and groan under any stress. In fact the moment he found his arms and legs unable to move, restrained by ropes and handcuffs, he quickly found a touch of panic that he rarely ever felt. The instant his arm would not lift, his leg would not kick, or his eyes would not see, he suddenly burst into life, fighting against his bonds, almost as if he could break free with sheer willpower alone. Luckily Aizen had the cuffs lined so that they wouldn't cut into Shinji's white flesh, for the way the boy struggled he would have done some serious damage were that not the case.

After a few minutes Aizen felt an almost pity for Shinji, watching a man who took such pride in his abilities reduced to a state of complete helplessness. Of course, that sense of pain was tinged with humour, he could not help but feel a sense of superiority and contentment in seeing his ex-lover tied up before him, forced to rely on him and solely him alone. How just was it to see the great Hirako Shinji fall to his own shortcomings and weaknesses, to see the man so arrogant and self-consumed succumb to his own overly trusting nature and forge his own defeat. Why, it was too sweet for words, it was something so perfect it would be forever etched into Aizen's memory.

It was true Shinji stood near to the top, but yet again here he was forced to obey Aizen's every whim, forced to acknowledge his true superior, and – like all mortals to the gods – soon he would believe in Aizen alone. He would be forced to accept that there was a new predator at the top of the food chain, a new king upon the throne of the world. Soon Aizen would be his god.

Aizen smiled to himself as his eyes narrowed dangerously, taking in every inch of Shinji's body and facial expressions, relishing in the panicked and laboured breathing of such a weak man. Whilst he enjoyed the fear that radiated from every pore of the man's skin, he knew it was time to begin what they were there to do. He reached out with his spidery hand and touched the side of Shinji's head, letting his calloused fingertips ghost over the soft, silky locks that fell from Shinji, enjoying how they slid across his digits as smooth as satin. Shinji at once flinched away from his touch, swearing at the top of his lungs and tried hard as he might to unhinge the chair from the floor, but it was to no avail. Aizen merely smirked at the fruitless effort and re- continued his original quest, stroking through those blond locks and reaching smoothly behind Shinji's head, before gripping one end of the blindfold's knot and pulling it undone, letting the black material fall from his victim's eyes, before dropping it upon the cold floor.

At once Shinji's brown eyes widened, and that film of water that covered them was lost as his fearful tears died up. The fear was replaced with anger. The coldness, the frustration, and the resentment were all visible in his deathly gaze, in the way he narrowed his sights upon Aizen and looked upon him with such disgust that it was almost as if he had caught scent of a foul smell. His upper lip curled and revealed his white teeth, and he lifted his head as if to signify that Aizen was truly beneath him. There was no hiding the fact that Shinji would rather be dead than with this man, and no hiding the fact that if – given the option – Aizen most certainly was willing to accommodate such a request. The distaste the two felt for each other, gazing intently at one another with cold hatred, was obvious.

"Yer one sick, twisted fuck, Sosuke," Shinji growled.

"Oh, is that so, Hirako-san?"

"Yeah, it is! Yer think this is going t' upset me, keeping me all tied up an' vulnerable? Yeah, I was pretty terrified when I thought I was dealin' with some random kidnapper, but now I see it's you I ain't got nothing to worry about. The way I see it, the only thing I have to be upset about is that you're hiding behind these stupidly strong ropes . . . if this barrier weren't in place, we both know I could kick yer ass."

Aizen smiled dangerously as he bent down close to Shinji, his face inches from the blonde's, and his hands resting firmly on the armrests of the chair. He gazed deeply into his victim's eyes for the better part of a minute, simply staring and watching, until finally a hint of uncertainty glimmered in Shinji's eyes, the eyeballs flickering as they tried to ascertain just what Aizen truly wanted from the encounter. It was then the brunet moved his back and spoke with complete confidence and certainty, waiting eagerly for the reaction of the man beneath him.

"Verbal arguments are petty and pointless," Aizen replied. "I choose not to respond to such base provocations. Instead . . . I believe we can play this my way. You always did enjoy it when I took charge, did you not, Shinji-kun?"

Shinji jolted his head forward hard and fast, hoping to break Aizen's nose with his forehead, but having anticipated such a move the older man was just out of reach, and instead smiled to see Shinji wasting his efforts. Yes, let him try and touch Aizen, it was ultimately just further proof that Aizen could not be touched, that he was the one whom held all the cards. Shinji could not hope to so much as to ever lay a scratch upon him, and his words held even less power, worthless as the man that spoke them.

He stood up to full height and looked down at his helpless companion. Shinji's face was flushed red with rage, his blond locks shadowed his expression as he kept his head low and back arched forward, and the contempt he felt seemed to reek from his every pore. Aizen stood purposely so his body blocked the light, allowing himself to cast a shadow over Shinji that kept the boy in darkness. It also allowed for Aizen's expressions to remain partially hidden, for only his smile to shine through as his villainous intent stayed stowed away in the darkness of the room. It was rather enjoyable to watch Shinji from the shadows, to see his every movement and expression, to watch as the fear flickering across his face. It was almost a rush, to know that he could see all of Shinji, even deep inside the man's soul, whilst keeping every inch of himself hidden away. He refused to let the very depths of his anger shine through in his features, and he refused to step out from the shadow. It was better to let Shinji stew and suffer, to let him see no part of the man that held him captive, to see nothing of what was to come. Yes, it was better this way, if only to increase Shinji's suffering.

"My, there truly is beauty in tragedy."

Aizen reached down and pressed a fingertip firmly against the spot directly beneath Shinji's ear, and then traced a slow but sensuous line along his jawbone, before moving to his lips. His skin was soft as ever, feeling as smooth as the water's surface and light as if the blond was still in his youth, and with that touch came the soft yet faint aromas of his captive's cologne and natural odour. It was such an intimate gesture, almost reminiscent of the times Shinji used to do the exact same thing to Aizen when he was still but a teaching assistant . . . 'Hirako-san' would usually begin with that one, smooth, intimate touch as if proclaiming his affection and lust by reminding Aizen of who was in control. Yes, it was a rather controlling gesture, especially when the recipient was truly tied up, but it seemed a perfect way to begin their meeting, by reversing their old roles and reminding Shinji of just who was in charge. He adored the feel of the man beneath him, and it was alluring how Shinji could not react, not fight, not object to any of Aizen's advances. It would truly be a fun evening indeed.

It seemed however that his little pet still had a spark of rebellion in him. The moment Aizen touched those sweet, plump lips Shinji opened his mouth wide and wrenched his head to the side, before clamping down his teeth hard and fast as he sought to deliver a painful blow to his captor. Luckily Aizen was as fast as ever with his movements, and instead of a bloody blow all that occurred was a horrid clashing sound as Shinji bit down hard on thin air. It would have been amusing, except Aizen had no patience to teach his pets how to play nicely. It seemed it was time to teach Shinji a quick, but poignant, lesson in etiquette.

Aizen reached down and quickly grasped Shinji's chin between his thumb and forefinger, gripping tight enough that a mark was left upon that sweet flesh, and with one firm pull he lifted his prisoner's head roughly and bent down close to him. Shinji struggled furiously, trying desperately to throw his head out of Aizen's hand, but the brunet held strong and merely gave a dangerous smile. Their breath mingled for one sickening moment and Shinji swallowed hard. Aizen's face became hard, his eyes narrowed and glimmered with a natural light of their own, and his lips pulled in exactly the right places so that it was impossible to see if his heart was feeling sadistic or sincere. There was something cold in how he stood, something somewhat otherworldly. How was it that his back was arched as he bent and yet looked so elegant, so natural? How was it that he could smile so warmly as his eyes glowered so darkly? It was rare times that he appeared less than human, and yet when he did he mastered the act so well it was truly believable. Shinji hated to admit it, but – for once – he was afraid. He was afraid of Aizen.

"That tongue piercing of yours is most attractive, Shinji," Aizen said almost casually, "it'd be a shame if someone was to rip it out, just so that you would learn to hold your tongue and play nice with your elders."

It seemed that his idle threat had the desired effect. Shinji at once closed his mouth and pursed his lips shut, refusing to let out another threat either verbally or physically, he instead threw his head backwards and stared up at the ceiling. A long sigh issued from his lips as he began to realise just who was in charge. The sight aroused Aizen's attentions, it was highly attractive to see Shinji throw back his head and expose that long column of neck. The skin was so white, so smooth, and each time Shinji swallowed his Adam's apple would ripple and move, forcing Aizen to remain stoic in appearance, lest he show a sign of interest. After a long moment Shinji lowered his head again and looked Aizen straight in the eye, showing not a flicker of weakness. He cocked his head to the side slightly, and then gave a starry, wide-eyed look as if being tied to a chair in front of his ex-lover was the most natural thing in the world, as if he had almost expected something like this to happen.

"Yer gonna tell me why you've got me here for?"

"I was beginning to wonder if you would ever ask," Aizen replied a little too sweetly. "Why don't I show you? After all, actions speak louder than words."

Aizen's smile seemed so bitter and sinister that, no matter how he tried to hide it, he still looked like some damned sadist. It reminded him of those villainous looks Gin sometimes had, the ones where he'd purposely cast his face in shadow and glare with eyes like venomous snake slits, all whilst grinning that inane grin, the one that he always wore so that it lost all meaning, so that it acted merely as a eerie mask. The only difference between Gin's look and Aizen's was that Aizen kept his eyes open, determined not to miss one second of his victim's expression. It was like he had to see the effect he had on people, had to judge their every response, it was creepy how even at times like these – even as he committed serious crimes like kidnap – he could still appear to be psychoanalysing all those around him. Couldn't he let his guard down for even a second? Couldn't he just let himself feel or act, without spending all his effort on what other people felt or did? What was it about people that Aizen hated so much, what was it that he distrusted? Why did he have to act like this?

He watched carefully as Aizen glided across the room, before he stopped at the lamp in the far corner and flicked the switch. The curtains in the study were so thick that all outside light was exterminated before it could enter, and with all other lights in the house turned off not even a slither could sneak its way under the tiniest of cracks. It was truly pitch black. Even if Shinji could lift his hand an inch in front of his face he wouldn't have been able to see it, it was like he'd been sucked into a black hole, and he couldn't get his eyes to adjust at all. He was starting to panic when suddenly he heard a noise like something being wheeled across the floor, and then heard a large cloth being pulled away from something . . . that was when he really panicked.

It couldn't be helped. All he could think about was those horrific horror films that Kensei, Hiyori and Mashiro watched. The victim or corpse would always be tied down or lying flat on their backs, and suddenly a tray would be wheeled out filled with fucked-up instruments of torture or medical devices, and then they'd be dissected alive, or have body parts removed or – in that really fucked up film – even have an eyeball removed! He didn't get his friends at all, Mashiro had just laughed as if it was a joke, and Kensei had just gone 'sweet' whilst Hiyori asked him to pass the bloody popcorn! It was an eyeball, a real eyeball being scooped out whilst the girl was still alive! Oh God, if he survived this he was going to kill those three psychopaths, and not because they had sick interests, but because thanks to them now he was freaking having a panic attack! Surely Aizen wasn't that twisted he'd start torturing Shinji like he was a freaking animal dissection, right? Even Aizen had some limits, right? Like, why would he want to torture Shinji anyways? He'd only bitch to Gin or Tousen that he'd gotten bloodstains on his carpet or something! Nah, he was much too chicken to do anything too hardcore, right? Right?

Just as he started trying like crazy to fight his way free from his bondage, a strong light flashed on across the room. He pulled his head back and blinked a few times and then let his eyes adjust, when he did he saw the faint outline of a silver, portable stand and then realised that the light was coming from a large television on top. It wasn't anything special, in fact it was so old that there was a back to it and the screen was showing snow . . . he hadn't watched anything except flat-screened HD televisions for years. Hell, it even had a video recorder underneath it! Seriously, if Aizen was going to start playing American movies with a little puppet asking to play a game, or even some weird Japanese shit where a girl would tell him he had seven days to live, then he'd freaking just kill himself then and there. Well, he would if he could, at that moment he was still trying to fight his way out of handcuffs.

"Please do not struggle so much, Shinji," Aizen said from beside the television, he body cast in a flickering light as he stood with arms folded, watching Shinji with an almost affectionate smile. "We wouldn't want you to miss the film, would we?"

"Bastard. Let me out of here before I -!"

Unfortunately his sentence was cut off by the 'movie' on screen. It was clearly a security tape judging from the time and date in the corner, lack of sound, and 'Archives' typed in the opposite corner, just in case the person watching wasn't aware of what room was being filmed. What was most interesting about the security tape, however, wasn't the room but its occupants, and – more specifically – what they were up to in said room. It seemed that little Luppi kid hadn't deleted the tape like he'd asked, and there – on film – was video footage of him screwing Luppi hard against the table. Then a few seconds later they flipped positions and Luppi was riding him from above, whilst clawing his chest and leaving what would be rather painful welts later on. Out of all the things he'd expected to see, this certainly wasn't one of them, that was for sure.

Aizen smiled darkly to himself. His lips seemed to purse in mild frustration, but the very way they pulled upwards at the corners revealed his amusement at the situation. He'd purposely kept his arms folded to evoke a sense of control, standing tall with a rigidly straight back, and his eyes – narrowed and intense – were focussed, not on the film, but upon Shinji's stark white face and constantly blinking eyes.

It was the perfect response.

The little blond was shocked into silence, his body completely still without a single sign of struggle, and his eyes locked upon the screen in front of him as every ounce of strength in his body left him. After a few moments Shinji's mouth began to open and close, moving as if in mockery of a fish in water, and suddenly a deep blush covered his cheeks, a subtle but noticeable red tinge that darkened his pale skin and made him seem oh so vulnerable. How strange it was to see Shinji blush. After all, wasn't this the man whom would take Aizen anywhere and anywhere, from park benches to museum lifts, trying any and every position and saying every dirty word imaginable? It was somewhat of a surprise to see Shinji so embarrassed, but a highly pleasant one nonetheless.

There was something highly enjoyable in seeing a man so free of inhibitions and restraint tied down, forced to view things against his will, and finally – finally – feel a sense of shame for his less than human self. The Vizard always had a hollow side to him, a part of him that was never fully complete, that could never empathise with others or care to understand those around him, and now it was as if that side of him had been wiped out, erased. It was as if Aizen had the power to change Shinji, to bring out his weaknesses and make him human, revealing him for the truly fragile creature that he really was. The sense of power and supremacy Aizen felt was almost overwhelming, and like a drug it was addictive, it controlled his senses and brought about a high unlike any other, it was something that gave him purpose and reason. It was intoxicating, just seeing Shinji squirm with humiliation and knowing that he – that Aizen – was in full control. He had the other man's life in his very hands, he had control of all his senses: scent, taste, touch, sight, hearing, they all belonged to Aizen to do with as he so wished. Shinji was his, and he had power over the blond that most people could only dream about. He was in full control. It was he who had caused Shinji to be shocked, it was he who had caused Shinji to feel embarrassed, and it would be he who would cause him to feel a fear like no other. Today, Shinji was his and his alone, and he would enjoy every second of it.

It was hard to understand Shinji's embarrassment. Perhaps his humiliation stemmed from being under another's control, specifically Aizen's control? Perhaps it was the pain of being cut down to size, forced to see oneself for what they really were, and have his entire self – physically and emotionally – bared before the man he claimed to hate more than anything in the world. There was a part of Aizen that longed to understand Shinji's suffering, but another part of him that realised that his suffering was inconsequential and unimportant. Why did it matter why Shinji suffered just so long as Aizen knew how to bring about that suffering? Sure there was a unique power that came with understanding the mind of another, but he could learn the inner workings of Shinji at any time, for now such a level of understanding was far from what he wanted.

Shinji lowered his head and swallowed hard, before cocking his head to one side and giving Aizen a once over, observing him carefully as if from that one look he could decipher the intent behind the actions. When he spoke it was soft, gentle, but laced with obvious resentment and bitterness, a warm front hiding a cold interior, and most of all there was an obvious anger that no friendly tone could hide.

"So what? Yer got me here because yer fucking jealous I'm screwin' someone else? Last time I checked you had no claim to me, Sosuke."

"Oh, I am very aware of that fact, Hirako Shinji," Aizen said in a rather nonchalant tone. "I am very aware that you deny me any claim to you, but I am also aware that your denial of reality does not change that reality's very existence. You may deny me my claim to you, but that claim exists nonetheless. If it did not then how is it that you are here now, weak and defenceless before me, waiting my decision on what to do with you, hmm? I do not have to claim you, Shinji. I own you."

The hostile fury on Shinji's face was a delicious sight indeed. His entire expression darkened at once as his lowered his gaze, his hair falling around his features to cast him in shadow, and dark lines appeared beneath his now narrowed eyes. His shoulders had squared and heightened, and his muscles were tense and solid, and although Aizen couldn't see behind the man's back he knew that the blond was clenching his fists. It was amusing to see that Shinji claimed so often that Aizen meant nothing to him, that Aizen had no real power over him – certainly not to deceive or manipulate – and yet here was proof that Aizen was Shinji's real master, with just three words he had transformed Shinji's emotions completely. He had the power to change Shinji's mentality, beliefs and even his emotions, and the little man didn't even realise it. He didn't even know that he was being played. Yes, Shinji would always be Aizen's favourite toy, and he would forever enjoy playing with him, breaking him when need be and fixing him once again to his liking. No matter how much Shinji denied it, Aizen owned him, and he had no intention of relinquishing his ownership. Shinji was his.

"Yer don't own shit," Shinji snapped, "especially not me."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yeah, it is, and you know it!" He tried to fight his way forwards again but the handcuffs and ropes stopped him, instead pulling him back roughly so that his energy was wasted. "What's wrong with you anyway? I can't see any other ex-boyfriend going shit crazy and kidnapping their old lover, just because they screwed with another guy like ten years after the relationship ended."

It was almost unnoticeable, but something flickered across Aizen's features as Shinji spoke, something soft and unspoken, something unrecognisable. On any other man it may have been a twinge of guilt, a spark of nostalgia, or even a twinkle of regret, but those emotions were not the kind of emotions a man like Aizen felt. He didn't regret his actions because he had them all planned perfectly and executed them accordingly, he didn't feel nostalgic because the past meant nothing to him, he already had everything he wanted in the present, and as for guilt -? Ha. You'd have to be high as Mashiro to think that someone like Aizen felt anything akin to guilt!

Still, something was there, even if Shinji couldn't pinpoint what exactly. It made him feel like he was running on the right track and that he should keep going. The point was something was wrong, and it wasn't just that Aizen was a fucking psychopath without a single emotion in him other sadistic enjoyment, something was wrong and Aizen obviously realised it when Shinji pointed out the absurdity in what was going on. So what was wrong? It couldn't be that Aizen really gave a flying fuck if Shinji decided to screw around with one of his Arrancars, and he doubted it had anything to do with their one-night-stand a few weeks back, and come to think of it he hadn't really done much since they broke up to constitute a kidnapping. Hell, Aizen used to be pretty decent for an ambitious, untrustworthy, little freak, but all that had changed around the time of the trial.

Yeah, yeah, so what if the Aizen he knew never existed to begin with, there was still something back then in Aizen that wasn't this downright evil, was there? Could it be something kicked off around the trial to change things? Could it be that something had happened to actually cause the trial in itself? Fuck, maybe that four-eyed freak had been right, he should have kept Aizen close to him and tried to get to know him, if he'd bothered to actually understand Aizen he'd have seen the trial coming and could have stopped it, and more importantly he'd have known the reason why the whole trial kicked off to begin with! Goddamn, there had to be a reason for this petty little grudge, right? There had to be something . . . If Aizen hated him enough to take him to court, hated him enough to use him when he had a chance, hated him enough to kidnap him just 'cause he was jealous of Luppi, then what had happened to cause that hate? You don't just wake up and hate someone.

It was then something clicked inside Shinji, and – suddenly – it all made sense.

"This is all 'cause of that resignation you handed in, ain't it?"

Aizen jerked his head slightly and blinked a few times, his smile fading into a look of passivity and indifference. No matter how much the bastard slicked back his hair, or wore contacts rather than glasses, or tried so desperately to appear to be an entirely different person to what he was, there were some characteristics of the 'old Aizen' that slipped through occasionally. His reaction when shocked or surprised was one of them. It was weird, some things were just innate and real, they were truly 'Aizen', but the rest was all an act, something false and fake. It made him wonder which 'Aizen' was real, or if both were merely an act. Would he ever really get to see the man behind the mask? If he was right about this then maybe he would, or at least get a glimpse, if he was right and he pressed on then maybe he'd get to see a sensitive part of Aizen – the real him – that no one else had ever seen before. Now wouldn't that be something?

"I beg your pardon, Shinji, but I do not follow."

"Tch, like hell you don't," Shinji scoffed. "You were cool until I accepted your stupid resignation. What? You're pissed because I didn't say no to you? I'm not a complete bitch like some. I ain't going to take away someone's rights just cause it suits me, if you wanted to leave I wasn't going to stop you, I'm not a jerk like that. Not like I wanted you around anyway, right? Couldn't trust you not to even poison my tea. I was right not to trust you too, so if you're so pissed that I let you go then what did you expect? Idiot. Did you really expect me to make you stay?"

"Yes. That was exactly what I expected, Hirako-san."

It was Shinji's turn to be surprised.

He turned his head to face Aizen directly, but he couldn't detect any real change in the man before him. Aizen just stood exactly as he had been doing, completely ignoring the video footage of Shinji screwing around, and gazed back at Shinji with a soft kind of patience. The only thing that was any different to usual was his gaze. It was like 'classic Aizen', the Aizen that they used to know, and from what he'd seen since the trial a trait that the 'new Aizen' sometimes – on rare occasions – let slip and revealed to the world. It wasn't an intense stare, quite the opposite, in fact the lines around his eyes had softened and rounded, and he seemed to be watching Shinji with an air of curiosity and almost . . . sadness. It wasn't even sadness in its typical sense of the word, it was something beyond that, something ethereal, something uniquely belonging to Aizen.

What was it that Aizen felt? Surely it wasn't a kind of hopeless despair, because he was certain Aizen wasn't capable of feeling despair, that he couldn't regret losing someone because he wasn't the kind of man that longed for someone.

Shinji had thought back to that day several times, the day when Aizen had resigned and they'd separated for good. He'd found it weird at the time, that just because Aizen had gotten a better job offer it had meant that could no longer screw around like they'd used to. Surely when other people changed jobs it didn't automatically mean a break-up? Not that they were a couple to begin with in order to break-up. Tch, he'd never trusted that bastard and it wasn't exactly a surprise when he'd been betrayed, he'd knew some sort of back-stabbing was eventually going to occur, regardless of how good a screw Aizen was. Though if Aizen was right just then, if he had actually expected Shinji to deny his resignation and make him stay, then why the fuck did he go and start criminal proceedings against Shinji? Yeah, like that would endear Shinji to him and make him want the fucker back.

Then again maybe it was just about revenge, maybe Aizen just wanted payback for what Shinji did? After all if Aizen really had opened up emotionally then it wasn't an everyday feat. Aizen was a very secretive, closed-off, Victorian-like kind of guy; to him any display of emotions wasn't just weak but a big sign to your rivals and enemies about said weakness. If you revealed your emotions you revealed what made you tick, you revealed what levers would work in order to manipulate you, and most of all you opened yourself up to pain and rejection . . . Aizen was a man of pride, a self-assured guy who not only refused to let other people see his real motives and emotions, but a man who couldn't let his shell crack for even a second, because to him being seen as weak was the same as being weak. If he'd let a glimpse of his inner self be seen for even a second, then it went far beyond merely trusting Shinji – something Aizen was loath to do with anyone – it was a true moment of utter vulnerability. He'd exposed himself to Shinji, and in return been brutally rejected and abandoned. That kind of pain didn't just go away over night either. When someone rejected you for just being you then it was a direct hit to your very identity, it cut you to the core, and - . . .

Shit. What if -? What if Aizen really was that nice, creepy, weirdo bookworm he pretended to have been? What if he was fed up with the world for whatever reason, and Shinji was the straw that broke the camel's back? What if Shinji's brutal – if unintentional – rejection was what caused him to go 'screw this, I really can't depend on anyone after all, let me try and take over the whole of Karakura and screw some people over on the way'? No. That was ridiculous, right? Shinji hadn't done shit to Aizen, let alone pushed him over the edge into Creepy Megalomania-ville. No, this was Aizen playing his stupid games again! He was getting into Shinji's mind, putting in stupid thoughts and stupid feelings, making him feel guilty when he had no reason to. Aizen was just playing with him, and he was letting him!

"Yer lying," Shinji snapped, hating himself for sounding a little more uncertain than he intended. "You were acting weird ages before you resigned, doing weird experiments with yer law research, and yer obviously were gathering up all that 'evidence' months before the trial, like that video of us and shit. You didn't want me to want ya to stay at all. You were already planning to screw me over!"

"Ah, how vain the Vizard mind can be," Aizen said in an almost singsong voice. "You truly think that your eyes do not deceive you, that merely because you can 'see' the evidence of my betrayal that you understand that betrayal fully. Let me tell you, Hirako-san, sometimes it is the things we see that make us blind."

Shinji bit the inside of his cheek hard to keep from snapping violently at his captor. The last thing he wanted was to piss the man off who held his entire future in his hands, because – after all – one word from Aizen and he could likely end up dead or worse. It was better in the long run to be patient, to wait things out and see how they concluded, to let Aizen run the shots, because if he tried pushing Aizen into a corner it'd likely be the last thing he ever did.

It was then Aizen walked slowly in front of the television set, blocking out the light for the entire room. It gave his body an eerie glow, an aura that didn't quite fit his appearance, and the room seemed to flicker with the remnants of a fiery light from the television set behind him. A few seconds passed, and then Aizen reached down and flicked the switch to the television, casting Shinji back into pitch-black darkness. Shinji pulled back his head and blinked rapidly, as he tried to clear his vision and once again adjust to the darkness, however before he had time to adjust he could hear footsteps coming closer and closer to him. Soon enough Aizen was standing directly in front of him, his hands on the armrests as he leant down so that Shinji could feel the other man's breath on his cheek, and suddenly he felt a sense of dread that he really didn't wish to be feeling. Whatever the man wanted now, it could not be good.

"Did it ever occur to you, Hirako-san, that perhaps you chose your own destiny that day?" Aizen said bitterly. "I came to you hoping for one response but expecting another. It was because I expected your rejection that I gathered such evidence, but I had no intentions of ever using it, that is . . . unless you forced me to. If only you had looked beneath the underneath, saw in me what was truly there, rather than the villain that you wished to see. If you had only accepted me then we would not be here now, nor would that trial ever have occurred. Instead you chose this, and I merely acted accordingly."

Shinji swallowed hard and shrugged. His heart was beating exceptionally fast and it was impossible to see Aizen's expression at all, he hated to admit it but he was scared, well and truly scared. He didn't know what Aizen expected and frankly all of what he said was a lot to take in, it'd take time to process all that information and to completely re-evaluate his past, he couldn't be expected to respond right then, could he? How could Aizen possibly expect him to give an educated reply when he was still reeling in shock, and still somewhat terrified he was going to wake up in a bathtub of ice but minus his kidneys? All he could do was bite his lip and close his eyes, hoping that any minute this would all be over.

"What do you want, Sosuke? All that's in the past, I can't change it."

"What I want, Shinji, is to give you one more choice," he came so close his captive as he spoke that Shinji could feel the warm, moist breath on his bare cheek and shuddered. "You are fully aware that Trepadora Luppi-san is my employee, are you not? You are also aware he is talking of marriage to you also, a foolish sentiment indeed considering the illegality of same-sex marriage in this country. Your choice is thus this: do you wish for me to immediately fire Luppi, or do you think I should retain him on my staff?"

"Shit! What kind of trick question is that?"

"It is no trick. You have thirty seconds to decide or I shall assume that you wish for Luppi to retain his job, a very moral choice and admirable considering the courage it would take to go against my wishes in your current . . . predicament."

Damn it, only thirty seconds to decide the outcome of someone else's entire life? That wasn't even fair! It wasn't Luppi's fault he decided to fall in love with a random blond, or that he was so enthusiastic he was desperate to suddenly get married, he was just a regular guy and it wasn't right for Shinji to just say 'fire him', it would ruin Luppi's life! It'd be even worse when he eventually was told it was Shinji's fault too, he'd feel betrayed and helpless and hurt, and everyone would probably mock him too considering how public he'd been about the relationship and all. How could Aizen be such a heartless bastard as to take it out on that poor guy? It wasn't even like Luppi had known Shinji and Aizen had been an item, especially considering Shinji had gave him a false name on the day they met, and even if Luppi should have kept it in his pants having met a freaking stranger for the first time ever . . . was that enough of a reason to hurt him so badly?

His first thought was that Aizen wanted him to say 'no, don't fire him', that maybe this was a test of his moral and ethical fibre, but then he considered exactly what was at stake and decided that there was more to it than that. Aizen didn't see it as a case of ex-lover and employee, he saw it as a matter of potential lover and a rival, he wasn't giving Shinji a chance to prove his moral fibre, but a chance to rectify the error he'd made so many years ago. What he wanted was for Shinji to say 'fire Luppi', to deny all his current love interests and choose Aizen over all of them. That's what this was all about: Aizen's needs. Aizen needed Shinji to choose him over anyone else, even if that meant being a douche-bag and kicking Luppi's ass to the curb without so much as an explanation why. That's what Aizen wanted.

Then again, was it what Aizen wanted? Surely if he said 'fire him' he'd be playing right into Aizen's hands, it'd be showing how weak he truly was, that – hell – he actually cared what the bookworm thought, and that Aizen had finally broken him too. Aizen wouldn't want broken goods anymore than Shinji wanted to bend to Aizen's will, he wanted his own individuality and his own power, and that wouldn't come from just giving into Aizen's implicit demands. Then again if he said 'no' he was denying Aizen everything, condemning himself to a life of pointless fucks who were never as good as what Aizen could offer, and he might even be stuck with Luppi for a lifetime. He hated to admit it but he missed the days of Aizen, the man had helped teach him everything he knew about sex and about life too, he missed the battles and the fights, he missed the kisses and the sex, he missed it all. Hell, it would be foolish to give in, completely stupid, and Hiyori and Kisuke would beat him to an inch of his life too, but would it really be that bad? Sure he and Aizen would probably kill each other after a week, but at least it'd be one hell of a week.

Shinji opened his mouth to answer but rolled his eyes as he continued to feel Aizen's presence. It was hard to explain but he just knew the creepy, little shit was still standing over him, watching him, waiting for a response and ready to walk away if he didn't get one. It pissed Shinji off. He'd hated it even back then, even when they were technically 'dating', knowing that Sosuke was always watching him from the corners of a room, and he still hated it now. Yeah, this was why he had to say 'no, don't fire Luppi', cause he really couldn't put up with a stalker.

"Why the fuck do you keep watching me?" Shinji snapped. "You want an answer, I'll give you an answer, but it don't give you no right to stare at me for the past twenty seconds like I'm a piece o' meat."

"Hmm?" Aizen replied lazily, clearly moving away to give Shinji room as the smell of expensive cologne became less strong and irritating, "How is it that you always know when I'm watching you?"

"I've felt you watching me since you were back in yer mother's womb. You've always been watching me."

"My, how scary to know that Hirako-san is always aware of me."

"Tch, you're the scary one, Sosuke."

"Hmm, is that so?"

Shinji rolled his eyes despite the fact there was no way that Aizen could see him. It didn't matter how you insulted Aizen, he always just shrugged it off like it didn't make the blindest bit of difference. Didn't anything ever annoy that man? One of these days Shinji was going to do something – something so horrific – that even Aizen would wince and show a flicker of anger. It'd be the best day of his life too, finally getting one over on that bastard.

He opened his mouth to snap back and respond, but no sooner than he did had Aizen bent close. It was so close that the scent of his hair was vibrant and alive, overwhelming Shinji's senses, and so close that the soft, silky texture of his hair brushed against his cheek and woke him up to the situation at hand. It was such an intimate gesture that Shinji bristled at once and tensed his body, his mouth running dry as he felt that hot, wet breath against the sensitive part of his neck under his ear, and it took all his strength not to bend his head and allow full access to his smooth column of skin. He half-expected Aizen to nibble at his ear, or to kiss his cheek, but instead he felt the hot, rough muscle of his tongue on his flesh, and shuddered as Aizen licked a long line down his jawbone and then up to his lips, where he kissed gently and chastely. Shinji gasped and opened his mouth wide, desperate to allow Aizen entry, but the bastard pulled back, knowing that Shinji wanted more.

"So what is your answer, Shinji?"

It took a deep breath to collect himself and gather his thoughts. What was his answer? He couldn't seriously fucking deny a man his job just because Mr. Fancy-Pants decided on a whim that it'd be a good decision, but at the same time he wanted to feel that tongue inside him once more. It was a tough choice, either way he'd be upsetting someone, and that'd either be innocent old Luppi or psycho old Aizen, and personally he wasn't entirely sure which way was the way to go. Still, if he had to choose he might as well get it over with. Surely no one could fault him if he made the wrong choice, considering that bastard Aizen was the one making him do it? It's not as though he had any real choice in the matter himself, right? Right. He'd simply state his answer and then to hell with the consequences.

"Fire him."

There was a long silence before a somewhat shocked: "I must have misheard you. Would you please repeat that?"

"I said fire him."

The silence came back again, this time for a good while longer. Shinji wasn't sure if he'd said the right thing, it was hard to say if Aizen was being so silent because he was pissed off or because he was so relieved, but with a man like Aizen it was impossible to say, let alone guess. It was almost creepy how Aizen had such control of his emotions, able to pull and twist at them as he saw fit, playing with Shinji as if he was nothing more than a toy, and worst was how Shinji let him do it. He shouldn't have been feeling scared, or nervous, and he certainly shouldn't care what fucking Aizen thought, and yet here he was! He was nervous, actually nervous, wanting to know what the brunet felt, thought and what he wanted to happen. He wanted to know if he'd made the right choice, if this meant he and Aizen could go back to the way things were, and most of all he wanted to know that this wasn't his fault. It was weird enough to think that he'd made Aizen the way he was, let alone that Luppi's fate was decided because of him. He didn't like that feeling, the feeling that someone else's life was in his hands, and if Aizen didn't say something soon -!

It was then he heard Aizen chuckle. Well, at least the old git was amused at any rate, which had to be a good sign, right? If he was lucky maybe he'd get untied sometime soon, then things would lead to make up sex, or even just a decent dinner, come to think of it he'd actually prefer dinner to the sex, he hadn't eaten in so long that he could feel his stomach actually churning.

The only thing that was rather worrying was the footsteps walking away from him. Now that couldn't be right, why the heck would Sosuke leave him tied up in a dark room all alone, not since he'd chosen to be with the jackass after all. He couldn't really be walking away, could he? He couldn't really be leaving Shinji all alone in a strange room without anyone to keep him company, whilst tied to a chair that was nailed into the floor? If he was then just how long was he planning on leaving him there? No. No, he wasn't that sadistic. He wouldn't just leave Shinji hanging unless there was a really good reason, and even then he wouldn't dare, there was just no way. Yet when he saw the door open in the far distance, letting in a slither of moonlight, not enough to see clearly, but enough so that he could at least see Aizen's silhouette in the doorframe, he knew something was going on, that the freaking jerk was actually planning on leaving him alone in the room. If that was really what was really what was going on then he'd freaking castrate Aizen whilst he slept, he swore to God! That bastard wouldn't dare just walk out on him after all that! He just wouldn't!

"You made the right choice, Shinji," Aizen said softly and warmly. "Now I shall leave you alone to reflect on all your previous bad choices, and I shall hope that when I return you shall have realised just how hurtful your past choices have been to those around you. By the time I return Luppi-san will be fired, and as I have his actions on tape he will have no defence against the actions taken against him." He opened the door widely and stepped out into the hall, but just as he made to close it he paused and looked up with a smile, and said with amusement, "you could at least be thankful I chose not to leave the video playing for you, now that would have been painful, would it not?"

The door hadn't even closed when Shinji began screaming violent abuse.

" – and what will you tell Kisuke? He's going to kill you for sure!"

Renji rolled his eyes.

Jeez, didn't this girl ever know when to quit? It was like he was stuck listening to a broken record, except with a lot more 'ooh' and 'ah' of the fan-girl variety. In fact if she wasn't a girl – or more specifically Rukia – he just might have snapped by now and told her exactly what he felt! It wasn't that she was being particularly annoying, it was just that the last thing he wanted to do, as he walked the last mile back home, was to start thinking about the consequences to his actions. Sure, Kisuke had been trying for years to get him to think before he acted, and it had finally been starting to work too, but for some reason when he saw Uryu self-control went flying out of the window, and he hadn't thought things through, he'd just . . . acted.

He just wanted to pretend that – for one moment in time – nothing was wrong, that he hadn't crashed over at Ichigo's place, or made-out with Uryu, or even earned a slap as he tried to creep his way into third-base. It kind of made him want to blame Ichigo for all of this. The bastard had a rich boyfriend, one who wasn't just a lawyer but had won a ton of money in a recent settlement! If they'd crashed over there then Rukia would have shared with that Nel brat and not seen a thing, and most of all they'd have been room enough that he wouldn't have had to bunk next to Uryu and end up making out with the four-eyed freak! He wasn't even sure what was worse, how guilty he felt about trying to push Uryu on or how he just knew Kisuke and Tessai would kick his ass if they ever found out . . . and they would find out. If Uryu didn't say something then Renji just knew Ichigo would tell his dad who'd tell Uryu's who'd tell his own, and when that happened he'd be expecting the lectures of a lifetime, with enough punishment that by the time his grounding was over he'd be in need of a pension.

Life just wasn't fair . . . Sure, foster care had sucked as a kid, but at least he'd had Rukia and all his friends back in infant school, and it had been such a carefree time too, nothing to worry about except getting his next meal, and then life decided to spoil things for him. He'd somehow managed to hit junior school still alive, but lost Rukia in the process, and then senior school kicked off and things just seemed to get worse . . . He'd been in fights, gotten into a rivalry with Ichigo, ended up dating Yumi and losing Yumi, and now -? Now he'd started some sort of quasi-relationship with Uryu and possibly ended it on the same night! By the time college rolled around he'd probably be dead with his rubbish luck, assuming he got in of course, because the way his grades were dropping by the second . . . It was one big nightmare after another.

Maybe it was better to just tell Kisuke the truth and hear the hour-long saga about how he was forbidden from seeing Uryu again, and how wrong it was to try and push Uryu, and then wait for the killing blow . . .

"Yo, Earth to Renji?" Rukia said with a glower, poking him hard in the arm as they walked onwards. "Have you thought of an excuse yet? If not I want to be there when Urahara-san finds out, I can't wait to see him dismember you and use your foot for a doorstop!"

"Yeah? Well why I don't I hang around when you tell onii-sama about how you shared a bed with that Yamada kid, I bet it won't be so funny then, will it?"

Rukia blushed brightly then snapped her head to one side and folded her arms. The dress she was wearing rustled slightly at the movement, and then shimmered in the beaming sunlight. It was a pretty damned nice dress actually, one of Uryu's creations actually, which was reason enough to tease the cute, four-eyed freak, because anyone that good at designing women's clothing was just begging to be teased. It made him wonder if Uryu had plans to be a designer when he left university, or if he wanted to be a surgeon with all that stitching, maybe he just wanted to take over from his father and design stuff on the side? He'd have to ask him when he next saw him.

He glanced ahead and saw the Urahara Shoten and groaned. It was his home and always would be, and he adored his parents and his siblings, but there was just something so dismally depressing about having an awesome night out and then returning to the shop. He could already hear Jinta screaming loudly at the top of his lungs, Ururu whining and crying, and Tessai-Otousan yelling loudly at the two whilst Kisuke was laughing in the distance with Yoruichi. Yeah, the shop had character, but a little too much character for so early in the morning. He wouldn't have had to worry so much, but Ichigo had gotten a call at around seven o'clock from his Shinji pal. The guy had to be wasted, because from what Ichigo had said afterwards the blond was claiming he'd been kidnapped and spent most of last night getting out of some bondage, but he couldn't get fully escape because the door was locked . . . It sounded like some weird adult movie that Yumichika had rented once, but apparently Ichigo had taken it seriously because he sent everyone home and went straight to Vizard headquarters. That kid was so gullible.

"If you must know," Rukia snapped a little to gruffly, "Hanataro was the perfect gentleman. He's also doing his medical degree at the moment, which is a lot more than I can say for you. Don't think Uryu didn't tell me about your last history essay, mister! I'll be amazed if Kisuke pays up the money for next year's tuition, seems like a waste to me."

"Yeah, yeah," Renji replied. "You're just defensive because Kuchiki-sama thinks he's such a catch. Rumour has it someone has an arranged marriage coming up to Yamada-kun, and who better to marry little Rukia than a doctor?"

They stopped for a minute by the wall that led into Urahara Shoten and paused, or at least Renji stopped to pause, Rukia was adamant on giving him a piece of her mind. It didn't exactly do much to dispel the rumours, because surely if it was just rumour she'd have no reason to be so angry? He was almost tempted to head home for a second, but if he was going to be honest he didn't really feel like it, because if he did go home Rukia would only follow him inside and. . . Well . . . He was rather embarrassed by his home.

He'd never admit it aloud because even if Kisuke never showed it the man would be heartbroken, and Tessai really would be devastated too. The two men really tried their best to make things feel like a home for their children, with Tessai always cooking and Kisuke always including them in household chores, and it was true they were all loved unconditionally and even a little overprotected by Tessai too. The problem was the shop was in itself a little shabby, and Ichigo always teased Renji for wearing out-of-date clothes, and if the lack of money itself wasn't an issue his parents were.

Kisuke always set out to embarrass him in any way possible, and Tessai's rather girly mood swings were just plain humiliating, sure he appreciated them for all they did for him, but that didn't mean he wanted people knowing he was their son. The 'innocent' incidents didn't help either. Like when Ichigo teased him about his clothes one night, and somehow the next morning Tessai had 'innocently' tried to help out by washing Ichigo's clothes for the next morning and dyed them pink by mistake, or like how when he'd broken up with Yumichika someone had accidentally leaked a rather hideous photograph of him to the press, under the name of 'Kisuke' but using different kanji. There was no way he was heading in there with Rukia unless she absolutely made him, no way!

After a few minutes he tuned back in to hear the rest of what Rukia was yelling about. Did she really have to be so loud? If she got any louder then Kisuke and Tessai would realise he was lurking about and make him do some chores, or worse, invite Rukia in for tea and sweets.

" – are you even listening to me, Renji? Seriously! You're just ridiculous! You can't talk to me like that, not after you tried molesting Uryu in the middle of a room full of Uryu's friends!"

Then came one voice he really didn't want to hear: "Ooh, you'd not supposed to be talking to Uryu! Boss Man said so himself! You're in trouble!"

Great, this was just great . . .

Renji and Rukia both looked down to see a rather happy-looking Jinta leaning against the wall with arms folded across his work shirt. It was obvious he was working by the way he was calling their father 'boss' and wearing his uniform, he had to give it to the kid he had a sense of professionalism at least, but they both knew that if he got caught slacking Tessai would give him hell. Then again the little redhead obviously thought that getting his brother into trouble would make it all worth it, they'd practically been rivals since they'd been just twinkles in their mother's eye, and that hadn't changed over the years even since Kisuke had adopted them. To Jinta Renji was just the 'big freeloader' and the evil big brother, and he'd do whatever he could to get him in trouble, if it had been Ururu he could have at least bribed her or blackmailed her into shutting up, but Jinta was a whole other matter. Still, it was worth a try anyway, if he said the right things it was possible that baby brother wouldn't say anything to get him into trouble . . .

"Yo, you better keep your mouth shut, brat," Renji snapped, kicking his brother gently in his stomach, gaining a harsh glare in return. "If you say anything to Dad or Otousan then I'm telling Yuzu-chan that you wet the bed."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

It was almost cute how Jinta lowered his head and crossed his arms; he looked so adorable when he assumed that little pissed-off pose, like he was all grown-up when he was really just a kid. A lot of his mannerisms were exactly like Renji's, but some of them were a lot like their fathers', like his little angry pose was identical to how Tessai looked when he was contemplating or rather annoyed, and whilst that was cute it was also a little bit creepy. It just served to remind him of how disapproving Tessai was going to be when he found out what happened.

Ryuken had banned Uryu from seeing Renji other than to drop off the occasional homework and check on his health, and it wasn't as if Kisuke could go against his friend's wishes after all, and so that meant Renji had an all out ban from seeing Uryu too. Ururu and Tessai had found it sweet, like a Romeo and Juliet kind of deal, but Kisuke hadn't seen a romantic side to it and merely threatened to castrate Renji with a scalpel if he spoke to Uryu at all except for schoolwork. He wasn't even allowed in the hospital anymore unless he was in need of medical attention, and he was banned from the school grounds except for lessons in case he ran into Uryu at any point. It was crazy, but it wasn't exactly Kisuke being unreasonable, because he couldn't go against his friend's wishes. The problem was that Jinta knew all of this, and that meant he was in an awesome position to blackmail his big brother if he wanted to do so, it was just a matter of scaring the brat into keeping quiet. It shouldn't be too much of a problem; he wasn't exactly a smart brat after all.

"But if you weren't supposed to be talking to him, you're kind of stupid for molesting him," Jinta said a little roughly. He obviously judged the situation as being that, if anyone was stupid enough to go against Kisuke's orders, then they deserved to get the crap kicked out of him for it. "Hey, what does that word even mean anyway? 'Molesting'? I thought that was a bad word, like something bad people do?"

"Huh? Oh! It's – it's nothing! It means - . . ."

Renji looked to Rukia for some support. It wasn't like Jinta was a naïve kid, he'd had questions from an early age about sexuality and things, asking why he had two daddies or where did babies come from, and Renji could remember all those questions being answered honestly. He was still a kid though so a lot of stuff was left out or glossed over, and so it wasn't exactly weird that they hadn't taught him the meaning of the word 'molest'. It was just bad luck that Rukia had to use it in a shouting match against him, and that Jinta had to pick the word up and start questioning it. It was normal for kids to be curious and ask questions, to want to know what words meant, but he couldn't tell him honestly because Kisuke and Tessai would kill him . . . not so much for explaining the word, because they believed in openness, but they'd kill him for using the word and exposing it to Jinta-kun. Still, Rukia was the one who started this problem so she could be the one to fix it.

"It means to sing karaoke!" Rukia chirped, and judging by her huge smile she obviously thought that her rather random explanation would be a good one too, "your brother and Uryu spent all of last night singing karaoke! That's all! So it's just a very adult word for singing karaoke! Isn't that right, Renji?"

"Err, yeah, sure."

Jinta scowled upwards at Rukia with cold, narrowed eyes. It was a tactic he'd again learned from Tessai, because after a few seconds of intense staring most of the time his victims would crack and confess to lying, only a rare few who could fight against it, like Karin or Uryu . . . Sadly Kisuke and Renji were the two who cracked instantly, and usually ended up blathering insanely until they'd officially dug their own graves, he could only hope Rukia was stronger than that.

He turned and looked at Rukia, she was obviously nervous under the intense glare but seemed to be holding up well. She lifted her hands up in a sign of surrender and closed her eyes a little, letting out a very nervous laugh as she eventually took to waving her hands in a very appeasing way, trying to get Jinta to calm down. So far it was going well. She looked nervous under his glare, which was normal, but she didn't look ready to crack. Hopefully Jinta would eat it up and go back off to work, and then never ever mention the word again, or at least not for a few years when he'd embarrassingly use it in the wrong context or something. It was then when he saw the devilish gleam in Jinta's eyes that he knew the kid hadn't brought it at all, and the way he was smiling . . . crap, he might not know what he word meant but he'd worked out that it was bad, very bad! He – he wouldn't, would he? Surely he didn't have the guts to start spouting words out when he didn't know what they meant? Then again, who'd they tell off? It wouldn't be innocent, little Jinta that was for sure, so what did the kid have to lose? Nothing!

The two brothers looked each other in the eye, sizing each other up, both knowing what was about to come, and both knowing they had to act fast . . . sadly Jinta was all that faster. Renji dived for his bratty brother and missed him by an inch as he ran towards the shop, he chased after him as quickly as he could but he just couldn't seem to catch up! Rukia followed quickly after him, but he was certain she just wanted to see the drama rather than actually help catch Jinta, still it was nice having someone by his side as he tried to catch the demon brat.

"Dad! Dad!" Jinta screamed.

They both ran past Ururu as she swept up in the yard, but whereas Jinta kept on running Renji snatched the broom from his sister's hands and turned it so he was holding the brush end, then proceeded to try and beat Jinta with the handle end. He worked in a few good hits and although he realised it really wouldn't help his case it felt pretty good, at the very least Jinta's arms would be bruised to hell by tomorrow. Sadly by the time he'd reached the shop itself Jinta had already slid inside, stopping right by Kisuke's feet as he sat sipping on a cup of green tea, whilst Tessai – seeing Renji's abuse – caught him around the waist before he could follow inside.

"Dad! Renji was molesting Uryu! Renji was molesting Uryu!" Jinta climbed to his feet, turned around and pointed menacingly at his brother and Renji continued to fight against his father and try to kill his brother, "I heard him, see! Rukia was yelling at him and said he was molesting Uryu, and then they tried to tell me it meant they were singing karaoke! Do something, Boss!"

Renji decided it was probably best to quit struggling. Kisuke had obviously heard enough and he knew it was pointless to try and avoid the hell that was to come, especially as his father was grinning ear to ear and waving his fan about with an almost nonchalant air. There was no way he was amused by all of this, which meant if anything was amusing him it was the idea of dishing out a punishment, which meant that Renji's life was about to seriously go from bad to worse. There had to be a way to spin this so he looked like the good guy, right? Although that probably wouldn't work, not now he'd tried to beat Jinta to death . . .

"Well, well, well," Kisuke said cheerfully, "look who's finally home. I would say I'm surprised, but I'm really not. Who else would dare to head to Matsumoto's Bar when he's been forbidden, spend the night at Kurosaki-kun's without permission, try to beat his baby brother with a broom and then have the excuse that he did all just so he could molest a boy he was forbidden from seeing?"

"It – it was Uryu's fault! He – he came on to me!"

He cringed as he heard Rukia burst out into laughter beside him, and realised he'd said exactly the wrong thing. Kisuke's eyes seemed to darken underneath his hat as he thought long and hard about what to say next, before settling on the words that no child ever wants to hear from his parents . . .

"It's time we had a serious talk, Renji."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

By Ray

It had been so sudden… and so very… scary. He received a phone call, Aizen-sama telling him his time at Arrancar was over. Ordinarily he'd argue, but the tone of his now ex-boss's voice almost made him want to wet himself. He was told the reason for his expulsion from the company was due to sexual harassment, sexual activity whilst being on duty…

Naturally he'd attempted to explain that it could hardly be unreasonable if the sexual activity was with his own beloved Shinji Hirako (despite the fact the bastard hadn't been returning his calls) – and Aizen-sama had said, in the scariest of tones: "Yes, I'm afraid there's another problem with your being in my staff, Luppi-san: your unnerving ability to mix reality with fantasy. Shinji Hirako is my lover. I advise you to be out of your Arrancar owned housing by tonight, Trepadora-san."

It was the way Aizen-sama said it that made him believe anything Luppi tried to respond with would be crushed like a great arm wrenching through and smashing through his body… He'd only ever heard his former boss talk to a few people that way, with that terrifying under-lining threat. So he didn't go to work, he spent the day packing his things… Damn, he should've known it was taking a risk a little, letting his company provide an apartment… Right now, he was at his complete low… if he hadn't loaded himself up on Prozac, then he'd most likely be sobbing in a ditch somewhere at his hideous situation…

Yet here he was, having taken way too much Prozac, a bloody piece of cotton in each nostril, some bruising around his left eye… stood outside the front door of Grimmjow's apartment. Over his shoulder he had a bulging rucksack; in his hand he held a full suitcase and a few other bags in his other hand. He was completely exhausted, positive he was walking funny after what happened at Nnoitra's.

The door was opened by a rather surprised looking Grimmjow, he looked like he hadn't long been out of bed – probably been taking it easy since that nice deal he'd scored… His expression hardened as he saw Luppi, cautiously glancing over the bags and battered face.

"What the hell're you doing here?"

Luppi pouted, "I need a place to stay."

"And the first place you chose to come to was mine? You really need to make some friends," he went to close the door, his eyebrows knitted together slightly, "Get out of here, Luppi."

Well, you could be rejected in so many ways…

Gin-san had managed to out-fox him yet again… He'd turned up at his first and the silver haired man went on and on about how small the apartment was, and how his boyfriend was the jealous type and it'd really upset him if he was staying in such close quarters with a guy like Luppi. In a few minutes he had Luppi feeling so sorry for him that he didn't even bring push to shove over staying with Gin-san. However, he did make the point of saying he had 'tried t' talk Aizen-sama out of his decision'. Luppi guessed Aizen-sama must really like Shinji Hirako if he was willing to disregard even Gin's feelings over it…

His next step was to turn up at Nnoitra's… quickly this turned out to be a really bad idea. The tall brunette had apparently been entertaining Szayel – the pink haired man had heard Luppi's voice and stormed off, saying he'd better 'Leave the pair of them alone.' Nnoitra had gone after him, attempting and failed rather quickly to stop him from getting in his car and driving off… Luppi had said awkwardly, "So… I kind of need a place to stay."

He hadn't expected him to go flying off the handle. He'd punched him in the nose… (Luppi felt lucky the ex-cage fighter hadn't broken his nose) and thrown him out of his apartment – he was very lucky to have landed on his ruck sack and even luckier that Nnoitra hadn't followed through with his threat of 'getting his fucking gun'.

After taking a quick detour to the hospital, he'd walked to Grimmjow's… really hoping he could play on the blue haired man's increasingly more consistent conscience to earn him a place to stay… Not to mention the overall perks of living with Grimmjow… i.e. the fact he often got too hot in the night and slept butt-naked, or the fact that, even with his clothes on, he was gorgeous, he had to arms of an athlete and the legs of a dancer. He really-really-really-really hoped that a few stupid little things… like Luppi being obsessed with him, and the whole vibrator incident… or how he'd tried to come onto him on numerous occasions since Grimmjow started seeing the high school student… not to mention the fact he'd tried to have Grimmjow in trouble for seeing the high school student – anyway, he was hoping maybe Grimmjow would be the better of the two of them, and take pity on a homeless man.

"I got kicked out of my apartment… and I don't have any relatives in the city," he bit his lower lip, "Please, Grimmjow? Just while I look for another job, I'll be a good room-mate. I'll make you breakfast? Remember how I used to make you toasties and juice?"

Grimmjow's brow furrowed deeper, he looked sufficiently irritated, "Luppi, you put date-rape drugs in my orange juice."

"That's all in the past, isn't it?" he fiddled with a lock of his hair, "Please? I have nowhere else to go. I know it's not convenient, but can't you just let me stay a few days for old time's sake?"

He looked as though he was thinking it through… then he shook his head firmly, "Ichigo wouldn't like you staying here, and I'm don't either. What did you expect? What happened at your place anyway? Did you start stalking the landlord?" He asked sarcastically, raising a mocking eyebrow.

"I lost my job… and Aizen wanted me out by five."

Grimmjow winced now… he got a nasty feeling that the kidnapping of Shinji Hirako… may have had something to do with Luppi's dismissal from Arrancar within a few hours. He brushed his hair out of his face, shifting a little. Geez, the creepy little shit really did have nowhere to go. Still… that didn't change the fact Luppi would most likely sneak into Grimmjow's room at night and rape him, or lounge around the house in his underwear when Ichigo was due to come over… Ignoring all of that, Grimmjow sure as hell didn't want Luppi living with him, or hanging around when Ichigo was over.

"Erm… stay there, Luppi."

This was the thing about being in a relationship – hell Ichigo hadn't even moved in yet, and Grimmjow already had to think about the apartment for two people. He couldn't very well just close to door and tell Luppi to find a nice alleyway to sleep in like Nnoitra had – still, Luppi hadn't ruined his relationship to anything near the quantity it had Nnoitra's… (Rumour has it, Szayel had a nervous breakdown shortly after it happened, and upped his dosage of every vitamin and form of medication he was taking) and it didn't take a genius to see Nnoitra and Szayel were barely speaking to each other. Still, he wasn't about to invite his crazy ex to live with him… experience spoke one hell of a lot louder than his conscience.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, groaning a little as he took out his cell phone, punching in Ichigo's number, and waiting for his lover to answer.

"Hello?"

"Ichigo, hey, it's me," he brushed his hair out of his face irritably, "Listen… I'm having kind of an unfortunate morning."

"I'm sort of busy at the moment," Ichigo sighed. "I'm at Vizard with Shinji; he said he got kidnapped this morning by your fucking boss."

Grimmjow groaned inside… praying he didn't sound nervous as he added, "Shit, really? Is he okay?" He wouldn't pretend to be shocked at the prospect of Aizen kidnapping someone – it was well known knowledge that you weren't to mess with the CEO of Arrancar.

"Yeah, he's just shaken up… I'll tell you about it later…" he lowered his voice, sounding a little concerned, "So, what's wrong?"

"Luppi got fired this morning."

"Oh wow, what did he do?" Ichigo's tone was sarcastic, bitter… Grimmjow didn't blame him for it.

"I dunno," he leant against his wall, watching the silhouette of Luppi at his front door; the man had sat down on the doorstep, browsing through his bag for something. "But he had a company apartment, so he's been kicked out of his home."

Ichigo grimaced, "Is he trying to get you to let him stay at yours?"

"Yeah," he breathed, "He's at the front door now. He's all beat up because he went to Nnoitra's first. He's got no family in town, Ichi… I'm kind of… I don't want him living here, but I don't like the idea of turning him onto the streets…" He was irritated, not wanting to give a shit about Luppi on his doorstep… but he was trying to make something of himself now, he couldn't be young and reckless and cruel… He had to give a shit.

The orange haired boy was quiet for a moment, like he was thinking hard, then he sighed, "I'll be over in a minute, Grimmjow. He's not staying with you… but maybe we can find somewhere else he can go? I mean… surely he has savings, right? Maybe a hotel or… To be honest, I'd even ask Dad if he could stay at ours for a few days," he sounded irritated, brushing his hair out of his face.

Grimmjow had to smile a little to himself… there was something adorable about how over-protective Ichigo could be. He chuckled lightly, "We'll try and think of something together… we'll sort this, okay?" he turned his back to the door, lowering his voice, "Are we still… on for tomorrow night? You stay over here – myself at your service… all night long?" He was excited about it, their 'date' – something Ichigo had agreed too after the whole Renji beating fiasco… Ichigo was someone he was more than willing to serve as a willing slave.

"Yeah, I'll be ten minutes, I promise."

Ichigo Kurosaki sighed as he pocketed his phone, glancing over his shoulder at the door to Shinji's office. He was waiting for the blonde to come back from getting himself coffee. He rubbed his temples, what the hell had happened for Aizen to just throw Luppi out of Arrancar? Not that he cared about Luppi – but it was a bit of a leap even for someone as sadistic as Aizen.

This couldn't really have come at a worse day – Shinji was shaken up and angry over being kidnapped… he'd sort of had plans to stay with him today… even if Shinji seemed a little sketchy on the details… he looked a little embarrassed when anyone bought Aizen up.

He opened the door to the office, spotting Shinji by the coffee machine, talking quite animatedly to Hiyori. The two of them were crazy together, not like two tax-paying adults at all… more like two very immature children. Ichigo sighed to himself, glancing around the corridors of Vizard, very briefly, catching sight of Kensei and Hisagi-san in the photocopying room. They looked like they were talking quietly, he saw Kensei's hand rise to hold onto Hisagi-san's shoulder, the younger man brushed it off, holding his work to his chest as he turned towards the door.

"Shuhei –" He heard the older man call as Hisagi-san walked through the door and began to walk faster towards the newspaper offices. Ichigo felt a swell of pity for Kensei as he watched his hand fall loosely by his side as his ex lover walked away.

Ichigo had tried to ask Shinji what had gone on with Kensei and Shuhei, but all of the Vizards seemed to have their own opinions – not to mention, something about taking bets too. He didn't quite like the sound of it… they were the worst adults he'd ever met.

"Hey, Ichigo, where are ya goin'?" Shinji began to walk over to him, turning his back on a rather out-raged looking Hiyori.

"Grimmjow emergency," he sighed. "Apparently Aizen not only kidnapped you, but he fired Luppi Trepadora this morning…" he brushed his hair out of his face, irritation evident in his voice, "Luppi's at Grimmjow's now looking for a place to stay…"

Something flashed across Shinji's face, something like… guilt… Did he have something to do with…? "He's homeless?" he asked quietly. "Was he living in company accommodation?"

"Apparently so," Ichigo brushed back his hair. "He lost everything. Grimmjow doesn't want him staying with him… but he can't exactly send them out onto the streets…"

Hiyori was suddenly at Shinji's side, "Wait – wait – wait," she grabbed Shinji's arm and jerked him off into the corner of the room. Ichigo took a step forward to follow them, when the older woman raised a hand for him to stay where he was.

"Excuse us, Ichigo. One minute," she jerked Shinji against the wall, before yanking him down to her height by the scruff of his shirt, the two of them whispering and hissing at each other frantically and angrily. He couldn't quite catch onto what they were saying… but he heard the odd whisper that sounded sort of like:

"– Because of you - !"

"He wouldn't let me leave!"

"– Take responsibility-!"

"Hiyori!"

Then silence for a few moments, the two of them locked in a long staring contest. And then, Shinji turned his gaze away, letting out a soft sigh, he swallowed and gave the younger woman a stiff nod.

Ichigo was half wondering what in the name of hell was going on, when the Vizards began walking back towards him. Hiyori had a firm grin on her face, "Hey," she said, offering Ichigo a hand, "I'm coming with ya t' Grimmjow's. On behalf o' Vizard, I'm givin' Luppi Trepa…Trepadora, was it?" she straightened up, "Anyway, I'm givin' him a job in Shinji's department."

He really, really wasn't expecting that.

The experience of being at one office in the morning clearing out your desk, then in another accepting a job by two o'clock in the afternoon was completely surreal, if not a little other worldly.

Luppi had been sitting at Grimmjow's dinner table, helping himself to last night's dinner and a glass of sake, attempting to make conversation with his ex lover, who seemed quite anxious. Ichigo Kurosaki had arrived – Luppi had noticed how he checked Grimmjow quickly (pfft, like he'd do anything to him…), before leading a small girl into the house.

On first glance, she looked like a girl in her early teens, he'd thought, perhaps a friend of Kurosaki-kun's from school… but then he saw her close up – sharp gaze, blonde, steely masculine mannerisms – it was Sarugaki Hiyori from Vizard. She'd walked right up to him, offering him a hand, "Luppi Trepadora?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Sarugaki Hiyori from Vizard. I understand ya lost yer last job from the stupidity of my colleague, Hirako Shinji?"

"I… guess so, yes."

Sarugaki-san did not seem like the kind of person you could explain things too. Her tone of voice made it clear that she had a one track mind and didn't take bullshit well at all. The kind of boss who most likely had a batch and terrified drones following her around… During his internet stalking of Shinji, he'd seen plenty of pictures of the two of them together, including one unusual photograph of her hitting Shinji with one of her sandals at an exclusive party.

"Well I'm here t' offer ya a job," she folded her arms across her chest, "I did a back-ground check the way here… yer law degree was impressive, an' one of my colleagues would be happy t' offer ya a job as a personal assistant."

It was a tad shell-shocking – was this… compensation? Still, you'd be insane to throw away a job at Vizard (the Vizards were brilliant, though he'd heard rumours that their eccentricity made life difficult for their underlings), particularly considering he wasn't exactly in any position to refuse – not to mention Aizen-sama had given him the impression Luppi would have one hell of a time getting hired by any well off law firm.

"R-Really – you aren't… thank-you, it would be an honour."

"Good, get yer bag," she said, glancing at her watch, "I got papers to be finishin' – an' I need t' get ya set up in company accommodation. Not t' worry, our apartments are way better than Arrancar's," she already turned her back and started walking towards the door, gesturing for Luppi to leave swiftly.

Luppi glanced at Grimmjow and Ichigo – just to make sure they all saw and heard the same thing – otherwise he'd begin to feel dreadfully afraid that he'd lost his mind or suffered a nervous breakdown. Ichigo looked fairly confident, if not a little confused, Grimmjow kept glancing from his boyfriend to Hiyori – clearly this was unexpected to him as well.

"Erm, thanks for the sake," Luppi said nervously, picking up his bags and beginning to head off to the door.

Sarugaki-san held back a little, addressing Grimmjow as Luppi's bags were taken by a blonde man with wavy hair whom he also recognized as one of the Vizards. He overheard his new employer say: "And you tell yer boss that if he tries any of the shit he pulled this mornin', he can expect a taste of his own medicine – so he should increase security on his house in advance." Then she closed the door and hopped into the driver's seat.

That had been an hour ago, right now he was sat before the desk of Lisa Yadomaru, feeling a little nervous. She was an incredibly beautiful woman, considering her age, dressed in what appeared to be a school uniform, with her long slender legs up on her desk, deeply engrossed in a lingerie magazine. He knew she was in charge of underwear catalogues and erotic magazines for men and women here at Vizard; her office was decorated with an unsettling mix of sexy photos and nice memorable ones.

"So, I've always wanted a personal assistant," she said after a few moments of silence, "I have questions for you."

He nodded his head, waiting a little patiently.

"I used to be a PA, you see… so I'm an expert on what makes a good one. First question, what is your sexual preference?"

What the hell kind of a question was that?

"I… like men."

"Good, good," she was moving a pencil, though it was really embarrassingly obvious she wasn't writing anything down. "Next question, do you always dress like that?"

"Like what?"

"Do you always dress like that? I'm asking the questions here, Trepadora-san."

He glanced down at himself… denim shorts, baggy t-shirt, tight leather jacket… boots… Yes, he normally dressed like that… he did have a nicer work get-up, which consisted of really tight black pants and white shirt and a tie – though in all honesty, he'd only ever worn that when he was trying to seduce Grimmjow… other than that, he only wore those clothes to court.

"Yes, I do most of the time. I have smarter clothes if you're serious about the dress code here."

She didn't answer him, "Question three, how old are you?"

"I'm twenty-six."

He hated being asked that question… particularly as he would often change how old he was depending whom he was trying to seduce. It wasn't like he couldn't pass for a fifteen-year-old boy if he wanted too and a very young looking thirty when he was attempting to come onto a business partner of Aizen-sama's.

"Do you have any illnesses?"

"No, I'm very healthy."

"Do you have any STD's?"

What the hell kind of question – again?!

"No, I do not." At least as far as he knew, he'd had plenty of scares – particularly after the whole Szayel voodoo incident. He'd been so sure he'd developed some form of herpes that he insisted Nnoitra came for a check-up with him. Crabs came and went every other year; it was just a part of life now.

"Out of the following recreational activities, which do you find most enjoyable: Painting pictures of nature, ice hockey, or making small and efficient models of trains from the 19th century leading up to modern day?"

Now he was almost positive she was making fun of him.

"I really don't see why half of this stuff is relevant-!"

"You look like a painting man to me," she ticked something on her piece of paper, "Alright. I just have one more question; there is a point to all of this, Trepadora-san."

"Yes…"

"So here's the question: do you find it easy to get up early in the morning?"

"Yes."

She beamed, offering him a hand, putting her legs down and grinning, "Then I'm happy to offer you a position as my assistant. There are, a few conditions, but I'm sure you're in no place to refuse them."

Luppi nodded gently, "Okay?"

"You have to wear a suit and waistcoat to work every day – like a butler. If you don't have a waistcoat or appropriate suit, I shall have someone take you to Rose and Mashiro and they will give you something to my tastes. Any office romances you find yourself involved in, I want to know first. Although there are eight bosses, you report to me over the others. My department, I own you." She had a slow, serious way of speaking, one that made you feel you had to do as she said… "You have to get me coffee every morning, and not too cold either, before I arrive. Sometimes I like back-rubs in the mid-afternoon – Last of all, I hope you enjoy your time working for Vizard."

He was supposed to wear a butler uniform? He was beginning to wonder what he'd gotten himself in for… Suddenly Luppi realized he was being expected to turn into a better paid version of Tesla – Nnoitra's pretty boy assistant. That man was of a rare breed indeed… unwaveringly loyal, smart and efficient enough to be compared to the special agents of the government. Luppi had tried to seduce him once – of course that was before he realized Tesla hated his guts (something to do with his 'damaging Nnoitra-sama's one chance at true happiness)…

"I have a waistcoat and suit."

"Excellent. You can start tomorrow. Get out of my office."

It felt… surreal in its own way. To have to come to grips with the fact that your life will end before it should, to have to live and love each day as the 'big day' gets closer and close. You make all the plans, get your heart and soul ready to embrace death… you worry for all those you leave behind, and prepare yourself to lose them. You feel fear of death for the last time as you accept your fate and can hope for the best.

Only to have someone tell you they can save you.

The procedure was… experimental. When Kisuke said there was a possibility of curing him, his mind trekked back – years back as he remembered Shunsui's hand in his, as the mask went over his nose and mouth. He could recall himself moving, he hearing his lover's footsteps, breaking into a small run to keep with them as they wheeled Jushiro towards the operating room. His worries began to fade as the drugs seeped into his system like a dream consumes the mind…

There was nothing more disappointing than waking up; dealing with the side-effects of being operated on… and being told nothing had changed.

Kisuke's procedure was nothing of the sort. The younger man came to the house with his box. The drugs for his procedure were all in there; it was a series of injections. He was lacking his usual playful temperament, his voice serious.

The side effects would make him weak and put out… he lost consciousness. After that, he remained bed-ridden. His body was weak, but Shunsui kept assuring him the procedure had been a success so far.

In the early days after he was first given the drugs, when he slept it felt like he slept for hundreds of years.

When he dreamt, he'd often think about the past… the days he didn't know he was sick, he'd play in his garden with his brothers and sisters, he'd run and practice kendo – because his parents weren't afraid of such activities worsening his condition. His friendship with Shunsui, their teenage years together… their first kiss; lying together on a field near Jushiro's home, underneath the stars.

These memories were enough to help him gather his strength.

One day he awoke, and his body felt… lighter, his breathing coming easy… it didn't seem like there was any sort of swell in his body, there was no pain. His voice was hoarse as he called out for Shunsui. His body felt weak, but he didn't care as he put his arms around his lover and held him properly for what felt like the first time in ages.

Jushiro knew he was out of death's shadow and was now bathed in the fierce white light of life.

However, getting back on that bandwagon wasn't at all an easy thing. Kisuke came over a lot; just to monitor him, make sure everything was getting back on track. It was, and Jushiro couldn't hide the intensity of his happiness that he was, for the first time in his life, a healthy man. He could kiss his lover without being ashamed of his bloody lips. He could make love as passionately or intensely as he wanted – though, and he'd blush as he thought it, his enthusiasm may have surprised Shunsui a great deal. It was so strange to come to terms with not being careful with so many things, with his energy back, he could go for jogs in the afternoon, and he'd visited Sentaro and Kiyone.

Sure, it was cliché to say aloud, but his recovery was giving him a new perspective on life. He wanted to live, he wanted to experience it, he wanted to grow old with Shunsui… he wanted to go back to work, doing the job he'd so missed and loved.

Jushiro was stood in his garden, tending to the plants; he was taking in the scent of the flowers, the trees… gasping a little as he felt firm arms around his waist, drawing him in to Shunsui's embrace. He chuckled lightly, turning his head to look at him, "Hello, love," he smiled softly.

"I missed you," Shunsui sighed gently, tightening his arms around him before letting go and taking a seat on the bench beside the sakura tree. "I see you're back tending to the garden," he glanced around, "I think it was waiting for you, while you were recovering. The sakura blossoms have never looked so lively."

"Now you're just trying to flatter me," he put down the watering can and took a seat beside his lover, smiling affectionately at him. Jushiro reached forwards and softly brushed a lock of Shunsui's dark hair behind his ear. "So, where have you been this morning?"

He grinned childishly, "Did you miss me?" he laughed, leaning in to kiss him tenderly on the cheek, "I took a trip to Yoruichi's. She was keen to hear how you're doing," the dark haired man draped an arm around his lover's waist, stroking the soft material of his shirt; "She'd like to throw you a party once you're ready for one."

Jushiro smiled, "Oh, really? You know, it doesn't seem like five minutes ago that her parties all involved bouncy castles," he chuckled, leaning against Shunsui's shoulder, tilting his head, "I will call her tonight. It's such a kind offer, and it would be nice to see everyone. I intend to visit Toshiro-kun this week, he has exams coming soon and I'd like to wish him good luck."

Shunsui leant back, rolling his eyes and glancing up at the clear blue sky above them, taking in Jushiro's smell. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel scared to hold his lover… there was nothing fleeting in their embrace. "Just do whatever you want to do now, love," he whispered softly, "Now is your time."

When they were young, Jushiro would get… protective of Shunsui's flirting. Of course he knew his lover well enough to say his flirtatious behaviour towards women would stay only as that… but it still made him jealous – prone to push Shunsui onto the sofa and demand they made love right here and now… once they were alone (This had lead him to believe that perhaps Shunsui did it on purpose to get that reaction). As his condition worsened and Jushiro and those around him realized Shunsui was a 'keeper' – not about to 'let any force on earth stop him' as Isshin Kurosaki once put it… Jushiro was terrified at the prospect of not only dying, but of Shunsui spending his remaining years grieving… alone…

It scared him to think he'd leave the man he loved to such a fate – so he'd encouraged the flirting. He'd roll his eyes when Shunsui's dark eyes would follow the dipping line of Matsumoto-san's cleavage… Or another example; Shunsui's 40th birthday, Lisa-san had used her influence in publishing to get them both tickets to a Playboy Mansion party. Back then he'd wanted to let Shunsui fly as free as he wanted too, it would be cruel to keep him near and beside him all the time… but now he was healthy, it made Jushiro wondered if he'd still be lenient like that with Shunsui's flirting and play-groping.

Kisuke had told him that he'd have to learn to be a healthy man again. Jushiro was keen to do so… the Principal had seemed keen on inviting him back to teach and Ichimaru-Sensei had already kindly given him some of his student's work to mark, in order to 'get ya back in the swing o' things'… That was so like Gin.

It felt strange to think of Ichimaru Gin as a teacher, Jushiro still remembered him as the grinning child sat with Aizen Sosuke, who'd been Hirako Shinji's assistant at the time. There had been a gathering for Yama-Jii's birthday, it was way out in Kyoto and ended quite late in the evening. Shunsui had whined all the way home for food so they had stopped in a McDonalds at the gas station. It was a funny sort of scene, Jushiro had returned with a strong coffee to see his lover eagerly chatting to Gin-kun; Sosuke Aizen was marking essays in place of Shinji, who was doing the puzzle on the side of Gin's happy meal box.

"Pass me the crayons."

Gin had looked away from Shunsui, passing over the box of wax crayons, raising an eyebrow, "Ain't those puzzles for little kids?"

"Ain't happy meals for little kids, Creepy-Face?"

He remembered feeling a little horrified that Shinji would call Gin 'Creepy Face', he wouldn't pretend Gin's smile was a little… unnerving – but as a child he'd been a sweet, curious boy, who'd clearly had a rough upbringing, he was a little worried that Shinji was being tactless with such a young fragile boy. Aizen quickly explained that 'Creepy Face' was just Shinji's nickname for Gin, some sort of payback for Gin calling him 'Big Teeth' or 'Bad Boss'.

It was probably yet another sign he was getting old – to him, it felt like two years since Ichimaru Gin was a young boy of twelve and before he'd left teaching, they'd worked at the same school.

It's funny how life works out sometimes…

When he was sick nobody his own age had died around him. He'd lost his parents when he was in his early twenties, but there was nothing like seeing someone younger than you waste away and die. Byakuya Kuchiki's dear wife suffered a similar disease as him. She was a weak, slender woman; they had talked nearly every day. Jushiro remembered her telling him how she'd wanted to have children when she was young – how happy she was that Byakuya accepted and loved her despite the fact she could never give him a baby. He had been very sad indeed when her room at the hospital became empty.

Around the days he thought his time on this earth would end soon, he thought of Kaien. He thought of his old friend's smile, his ability to draw others to him with his inner light. How sad it was, that such a wonderful, proud young man would live to lose a wife and die doing the right thing.

It was one of the few positives death would offer him. In death, perhaps he'd meet them again.

"Jushiro, you're drifting," Shunsui whispered softly, "Is it too hot out here?"

"No, it's lovely," he kissed him lightly on the lips, "I was miles away," Jushiro laughed, then softened his eyes as he saw a small figure stood by the back gate. A fond smile covered his features as his gaze fell upon Toshiro Hitsugaya. "Toshiro-kun, what a wonderful surprise!" he cried happily.

The eleven-year-old went a little pink, shuffling his feet, "The back gate was unlocked," he started to walk over; he was trying to look stern, serious… as always, though there was excitement in his face. "Kyoraku-san said you were feeling up to visitors?"

Jushiro chuckled, patting the bench next to him, "I am always up to seeing you, Toshiro-kun. How are your studies going?"

He sat down, "They're going fine. Mo – Hinamori has been a great help."

He smiled gently at the younger boy, it had been too long and he really had missed little Toshiro-kun. The boy was a genius and so keen to grow up, he was one of those pupils a teacher feels blessed to have been able to teach. As Jushiro listened to Toshiro-kun awkwardly talk about his current studies and various social aspects of his life, and he half watched Shunsui wave at him as he headed back into the house, most likely to fetch candy; he couldn't help but think to himself that he may not have lived to see this quiet, peaceful moment.

The future was nothing to be afraid of, Jushiro would just enjoy every moment as it passed.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

By Rob

There were very few things in this world that could surprise a man like Aizen.

He had seen it all, done it all, heard it all . . . The events in this world that occurred had occurred a thousand times before, each one varying slightly but never enough, never different enough to make it unique or special. It was as if each time he learnt of something new it was merely a reinterpretation of an old classic; the actors were different, the scenery different, the setting different, and yet ultimately the plot was the same. The things people did always followed the same formula, and so after so long a murder ceased to be shocking and merely became but a genre, something to which all other murders fell under, each one varying in its story but ultimately conforming to a predetermined set of rules, each one inevitably nothing more than another example of what 'murder' should be. Rape could never be more than rape, and famine could never strive to be more than famine, the horrors of this world lived as little more than abstract ideals to which all criminals strived to achieve with their crimes. How often did one break the boundaries and create something new? How often were words such as murder, rape or torture redefined and shaped into something that broke the human mind's perception, which shocked us to our very core? To a man like Aizen it made no sense to allow oneself to feel horror each time one heard of a crime. There would always be crime, and crime would always be little more than a clichéd plot worn thin in a genre overdone by overly ambitious authors with little reach, and to a man like Aizen he always strove to hear that one piece of news that would break his jaded cynicism. He strove for that feeling of surprise.

It was a feeling perhaps alike to one of his many film junkie employees. It would begin with a few of them like Grimmjow or Nnoitra watching a horror film, their emotions tense and excited as they hoped for a scare and a thrill so hard to achieve, and then finding that – after so many films, so many life events – that the thrill wasn't there. Not once did they jump, not once did they gasp, and so they tried another film to find that fright. The sad thing was that the more one watched the more one grew used to the conventions of media, genre and the general ways of the world, and the more one grew used to these things the more one understood them. At lunch hours he would enter the staff rooms and see Grimmjow dissecting a horror film as he watched it, ripping it apart scene by scene, understanding the principles behind it, and as such that elusive thrill he sought became harder and harder to reach. We do not fear what we know. We fear the unknown.

So it was that Aizen sought out the unknown, the unique, and the thrill of that feeling of surprise. The many simpleminded people would tell you that they despise the feeling of shock, it is disturbs their everyday views on the world, it shakes their cores and makes them question themselves, and how many people can handle that self-analysis, that introspection? Those fools at the bottom of the ladder despised crime merely because it made them empathise, made then frightened to be a victim, forcing them not to take charge of their own fate and thus making themselves victims. It was the same as those child-minded adults afraid of horror films. What these people were truly frightened of was that every evil that should occur on screen once occurred in the mind of a man, that there were people out there with the mind of a killer, that they themselves had the potential to do great evil. The person who – unlike those such as Aizen, Urahara and Kuchiki – was scared of those things was merely scared of himself, scared of realising he was just like everyone else, and so he was just as evil as the world around him. He would forever be surprised by the actions of others, because he would never truly realise that he too was capable of such actions. The man that understood his own mind would never be surprised by the mind of another.

Whilst Aizen may have had a . . . fondness for Shinji, the man posed no challenge to a mind like Aizen's. The blond wore his heart on his sleeve, his thoughts on his face, and his motives were not unlike reading the words upon a children's book, and so no matter what the Vizard did there was never an element of surprise. It was the same for Kaname, the blind man who was blinder still to the minds of men, never realising that his passion for justice was being manipulated and twisted by those he allowed himself to trust. Shinji, Kaname, and Momo . . . they were all so trusting, so loyal, so simple; they would never pose a challenge to Aizen the way that Kisuke could, and they would never surprise him in the way that a certain someone could.

Perhaps – when all was said and done – he was not surprised by the events or people themselves, but by the very fact he could be surprised. After all he was a man who prided himself on understanding everything around him, and sometimes – just sometimes – he forget that even he did not truly know everything in this world, and one prime example of that was lying quietly upon his couch . . .

Gin. He would never openly admit it but Ichimaru Gin was the only person in this world he would never truly comprehend. It was often for some the incomprehensible smile that he wore that caused such uncertainty, making one wonder what his true motives and reasoning were, causing one to feel trapped, constricted and fearful under the slithering smile of a man that could by no means be happy. He would smile in wrath, in joy, in fear, but he would always smile, that was certain. Yet it was not that smile which caused concern for Aizen, it was other things, subtle things . . . It was how Gin always seemed to know exactly what Aizen felt and thought, despite his almost perfect acting skills and his own permanent smile, or how there were moments where Gin appeared to be disobeying a direct order, yet somehow had obeyed the order to its every letter, always finding some small loophole . . . The man was indeed a fox. He was sneaky, suspicious and even to this day Aizen didn't fully trust Gin to be on his side, always wondering if he would one day be betrayed the way that he had long ago betrayed Shinji, and yet despite that element of fear and uncertainty he could not help but think of Gin as a friend and as a son. He loved the young man as much as he feared and hated him, and he both loved and hated him for being so damned mysterious, for always leaving Aizen guessing, for always surprising him when Aizen knew after all this time that he should no longer be surprised. One day Gin would truly be a force to be reckoned with.

It could honestly be said that Gin was one of the rare people who could surprise him.

He perhaps should have expected to see his 'adoptive' son in his private study, lying lazily on his expensive couch, but truthfully he had expected – after a period of six evenings and seven days – to see his friend and colleague elsewhere.

That did not necessarily mean he wished or thought that Gin would have been out of his home at this point in time, but he had somewhat thought that the younger man would have grown bored of the same scenery day in and day out. It was very much out of character for him to occupy the same space for such a long period. Gin was a man that enjoyed the sight of people, watching and analysing them albeit often from a distance, it was the interaction with other human beings and the sight of life that seemed to give his meaning purpose. Perhaps he feared being alone and the sight of others quelled that loneliness inside of him, or maybe there was a genuine interest in the minds of others, a longing to understand the people around him, but regardless a place of such solitude and isolation was the antithesis to all that Gin stood for. It was a room that suited Aizen, a man who found humankind repulsive, not the kind of place for a man that needed to be surrounded by people and in the midst of life. Aizen had known his protégée since childhood, and he knew that beyond this that Gin was a person who adored travel, who longed to see new places, who strove to always be on the go and see new things. Gin always teased Aizen growing up, calling the man a recluse and a hermit, and if he stayed too long in his father figure's home he'd grow insanely bored, usually ending up in the surveillance room in order to fulfil his need to be around people, even if it was only through the distance of a television monitor. Why the young man would suffer the same private study for an entire week did not make sense to Aizen, nor to his current – if insufficient – knowledge of Gin, it was something that surprised him, shocked him, and made him wonder.

The young man was reclining upon the sofa with eyes half-closed and a faint, weak smile upon his lips. It was obvious that his usual mirth had faded with recent events. His face was somewhat longer, paler, frailer and his eyes was lifeless, pulled at the corners as if caught somewhere in grief, and each time Aizen or Kaname tried to talk to him – tried to pull him out of his current depression – his eyes would open, exposing their old beautiful blue selves that were now dull and glassy, and his voice would reply in soft, sorrowful tones. The thing that most worried Aizen, however, was the fact that clothes that once form-fitted Gin's previously thin frame were now practically hanging from him. It was obvious the young man had lost weight, obvious that he was perhaps entering dangerous territory, and Aizen was worried that if the behaviour continued that he may have to intervene.

It was then that Aizen entered the room and closed the study door softly behind him. He walked slowly over to a chair opposite the sofa and sat down, his eyes fell on Gin as he noted that the young man had yet to look up and observe him. Gin did not respond to Aizen at all. In fact his only response was to completely close his eyes, and then that Aizen noticed Gin's fingertips tracing rhythmic patterns over the pages of a book upon his lap.

It seemed his young friend was reading one of Kaname's books. Aizen smiled as he suddenly realised that Gin's inappropriate choices of literature for Kaname had actually been intentional. He somewhat hoped that Gin's mischievous, prankster nature would soon return, thus indicating a return to normality and good health.

"What are you reading, Gin?"

Aizen adjusted his glasses and gave a warm, docile smile towards his youthful companion. He kept his tone light and unassuming, knowing that if he began this conversation with direct accusations or inquisitive questions that Gin would become defensive.

It was best to begin with small talk when addressing Gin, to allow the young man to be a participant in the conversation and to take charge when need be, it took longer to discover what one was looking for, but it was ultimately the easiest way. If one tried to force Gin into revealing something you could see a wall come down behind those blue eyes, his smile become tense and cruel, and if a practical joke did not follow some thinly veiled insults would. It wasn't that Gin was a private person, or disliked giving control to someone else enough that they could question him, it was merely that – despite popular opinion – there was a sensitive side to him, one that took any criticism or question as an attack on his person. Aizen saw this, Rangiku knew it, but so many others assumed the man to have a heart of stone, and so when they spoke to him they hurt him, and – in turn – he would hurt them too.

"Have you been reading the same book for the past week, Gin?" Aizen beamed brightly, closing his eyes and tilting his head. "It must be very absorbing. Perhaps I shall find a printed copy and read it for myself, I am afraid I have never allowed myself the time to study Braille."

"Actually, Aizen-sama, I think ya already have this book on one of yer shelves, just yers is in English an' it was pretty incomprehensible to me."

Gin replied with a large smile of his own, although it was obviously fake despite how he made a show of closing his book and turning to face Aizen. He may pretend to be more interested in the company of his father figure, but there was a slight tenseness to his eyes, and sharpness to his features, that betrayed his annoyance at being interrupted. He would of course show nothing but reverence and kindness to Aizen, but the brunet still expected some subtle insults would follow in retaliation for disturbing his charge.

"Oh? If you had only asked, I'm sure I could have found you a Japanese translation of whatever it was you were looking for."

"Nah, it ain't a problem, Aizen-sama. Tousen's room's got much more interesting books anyway . . . yer books are all too difficult to read, and mah books just depress me at the moment . . . the books in Tousen's room are more fun to read, ya know?"

"Although Kaname does not officially live here that is still his room, Gin, and I do not think that he would appreciate you breaking in to borrow his personal items without permission . . ."

Aizen was perhaps bending the truth slightly. It was not that Kaname would not appreciate his personal space being violated, for the blind man was quite generous and would share his items with any who asked, but it was more that he did not trust Gin.

Gin was given a room in Aizen's home a year or so after they had first met, when Aizen took more of an active role in his charge's life, and even now – as Gin reached adulthood – he still had a permanent room in Aizen's home, because as far as Aizen was concerned what was his was also Gin's. On the other hand, although Aizen did not share a familial relationship with Kaname, they were close. Kaname often spent nights at Aizen's home for the heavy demands of work, meetings and social events often demanded it, and so – despite having a home with Komamura and their adoptive son Wonderweiss – Kaname had a room of his own in Aizen's property . . . During the many years that room had existed many pranks had centred around it in some way. Gin had – in the past five years – dyed all of Kaname's clothes pink with 'I heart justice' written large upon his jackets, he had also installed large cameras and pornographic posters around the room before Komamura was due to arrive, and he had also rearranged the furniture completely, causing Kaname to sprain his ankle as he walked into a bed that should not have been where it was placed.

Of course Aizen had been rather less than amused when he had heard Gin playing pranks upon a blind man, but when Tousen had begun to retaliate in less than fair ways he began to see the whole thing as out of his hands, and realised that they both deserved whatever they got. So when Kaname hid a tape recorder in Gin's room of the English, audio version of War and Peace, or when Gin's shampoo had been secretly replaced with green hair dye, or even when Gin mysteriously found himself forced to baby-sit Wonderweiss, Nel and Yachiru on the same evening, Aizen had just shaken his head and thanked God that he was not a part of their rivalry.

"What is it that you are reading, Gin?"

"Just words," Gin said in a rather childish response.

"Any particular words?"

"It's just a story 'bout some woman whose husband's sailing out at sea for ten years, an' everyone wants her t' find a new suitor or something, but she stays faithful, and ten years later her husband returns an' she's happy again . . ."

Ah, a story about two lovers forced apart by circumstances beyond their control, only to eventually be rewarded for their patience and brought back together. A very romantic tale to say the least, but in Gin's circumstances somewhat torturous, not only was he forced apart from his young lover but he had lost his job in the process, it was indeed as if they were seas apart, and Gin was uncertain if anything would bring them together again. It would not be surprising if he had spent the past week reading stories of lovers torn apart but ultimately brought back together, and if that was the case then hopefully they gave him hope and faith. Admittedly Aizen found himself tempted to hide the more dramatic, tragic love stories such as Romeo and Juliet for fear it might give Gin ideas, but he doubted Gin would ever resort to something so extreme.

"Gin, I understand that you are hurt that Kira's parents have forbidden you from being together, but I trust that you see the upside to recent events?" Aizen smiled weakly as he saw Gin become defensive. His eyes became stony and cold, and his body became tense and closed, it was obvious he did not want to hear what Aizen had to say. "Although you were forced to resign your teaching license has, fortunately, not been revoked and no charges have been made. There are many schools in Karakura-cho that would happily hire you Gin."

"With all due respect, Aizen-sama, that ain't the issue," he replied rather bitterly. "I know I can get a job anywhere, and I know that 'cause I lost the company housing I can live here until I get somewhere new. I ain't worried about where I'm goin' t' live or work. I'm just worried about my little Kira-kun. Ja, I guess that's hard to understand for someone who locked his boyfriend in a walk-in closet, naked and tied up last night because he was 'disobedient', then spent t'day makin' sure his security kept said boyfriend away in case he tried to kill ya . . . but ya know, some of us actually like the people we date."

It was hard to ignore the rebellious tone, verbal jab and attempt at provocation, but Aizen somehow managed to hide his irritation and kept up his bright, innocent smile. His gaze was gentle and soft, and he made sure his body language was unobtrusive and unassuming; after all if his companion wanted a rise it would be unwise to provide him with one. He was also somewhat sympathetic to Gin's plight . . .

Gin clearly loved Kira more than anything, more than his job and reputation, and he had risked everything to be with him, and in return he had lost everything. Kira's parents had deleted all his email accounts, taken away his phone, and replaced both with heavily supervised and controlled alternatives. Every email, text or IM sent would be automatically sent to his parents' account for them to peruse at a convenient time, and he was also forbidden from all social events and from leaving the house aside for school, if he wished to see his friends he must do so chaperoned inside his parents' home. It was essentially impossible for Gin and Kira to make contact, almost as if they were in two separate realms, and Gin had fallen into despair knowing that it was impossible to speak to his lover in any form. Luckily Kira – despite having also fallen into severe depression – had a much more pro-active personality. It struck Aizen as obsessive, dependent and weak, as if Kira could not survive without Gin's very presence, and rumour had it that the day after they had been forced apart Kira had broke down and trashed his room and harmed himself, forcing his parents to lock him in an empty room until he calmed down, almost like a prisoner in a cell. Their love reminded Aizen of an anime or drama, it seemed too unreal to be true. Luckily – as he said – Kira was a highly intelligent individual, and had found a way to see Gin, however this would require convincing Gin to leave the privacy of the private study in order to do so.

The problem was not so much reuniting the two young lovers, for that was an easy task to solve, as Kira himself had recently proved and Gin had yet to discover. The problem was that there was a deeper-rooted issue at hand. The separation from Kira had brought about some negative emotions in the both men, and whilst Kira's friends had supported him fully and his parents pushed him into therapy, Gin's support system was a little . . . lax. That was no to say his friends did not care, on the contrary Rangiku, Byakuya and Shunsui had all desperately tried to make contact with him, but Gin – being Gin – had disappeared to Aizen's and told not a soul. He hadn't even left information with his school as to where he would be moving, and so his friends were left chasing ghosts, unable to find Gin and forced to accept weak assurances from Aizen that yes Gin was still alive, and no he had not kidnapped him or enslaved him in the way that he had to Shinji, and whilst he was on the subject he thoroughly denied all the accusations his new lover cast his way.

Gin was an unusual man who coped in unusual ways. In his childhood he would resort to uncanny displays of almost psychopathic violence, in his teenage years he fell into an almost lethargy that was hard to break, and in his young adult years he coped by playing pranks and manipulating those around him. Now, without Kira, he had chosen to isolate himself in Aizen's home, and his only amusement came from reading, spying on Aizen, or lurking in the security room and playing with the security features to set traps for Aizen's staff. It had seemed he had fallen into his old lethargic stage, and after a day or two stopped doing much of anything, including necessary daily events such as bathing, exercising or eating. It was no wonder he scared so many people. What other man would still be smiling during a time like this . . . aside from Aizen himself, of course?

"If you are that upset over your loss of Kira-kun, then you shall be happy to know I have made you an appointment with Unohana-sensei for tomorrow afternoon," Aizen said warmly and softly, smiling in a way almost identical to Gin's old smiles. "I trust that you have no complaints? I shall have one of the staff drive you to and from your appointment. The appointments shall be daily until I deem them unnecessary, and I hope that they shall soon be unnecessary . . . for I should hate to take further action on the matter."

"Aw, ain't that sweet of ya, Aizen-sama!" Gin cocked his head to side and gave a dangerous smile of his own, "ya so worried about hospitalising me, when ya boyfriend was thrown out o' here with rope burns an' an aching jaw from that silly ol' gag. Ya must love me so much more when mah safety is so much more important than Scary Teeth's. Ja! Guess I should feel lucky, eh? I get threatened with hospital treatment, but at least I ain't getting tied up in closets, ain't that right?"

It was hard not to get distracted and ask where the name 'Scary Teeth' had come from. After all, Aizen had thought that with age came maturity, he had not expected for two of the most important people in his current affairs to still be taking part in some sort of childish rivalry. Although Shinji was little more than a toy, an object to satisfy a need, he was still involved – no matter how insignificantly – in Aizen's life, and he did not wish to be subject to petty arguments and bickering like he was so many years ago. He had a feeling Gin would not respond well to insults such as 'Fox-Face' at the moment, and it would either cause him to fall further down the spiral, or – as was most likely – retaliate by trying to torture Shinji in very imaginative ways, and the angrier Shinji became the harder it would become to participate in . . . enjoyable activities that he had control over, as opposed to the other. The easiest thing to do was to ignore the insult and hope that if Gin had outgrown that stage where nicknames stuck so easily . . .

Aizen truly held a deep-seated fear that a smiling face and an interest in nicknames was indicative of a certain personality type, and that very thought was somewhat disconcerting. It would mean that in a few years time they'd be two people just like Gin in the world, two people ready to confuse him and keep him on his toes, because there could be no doubt that Zaraki's Yachiru would grow to be identical to Gin.

Aizen chose to ignore Gin's thinly veiled criticism and subtle displays of jealousy, and instead brought the conversation back on to a topic of his personal choosing: "I worry, Gin. My kitchen staff informs me that you haven't eaten in quite some time."

"Eh? Is that right?" There was an almost genuine look of puzzlement on his face as he gazed off into a distant corner, one of his hands moving away from his book to touch his lip as if in thought. "They lie. Today I had a nice cup of green tea . . . Ja! I even had a bowl of dried persimmons for breakfast yesterday too, an' I might o' had a few grapes for supper too."

"Oh? Now that is a shame," Aizen made sure to keep his tone light and airy, it was better to affect an air of innocence in a game such as this, otherwise Gin would surely see through his plan, "it means that you would be too full to join us for dinner this evening. There are some guests who are looking forward to seeing you."

"Yeah? I'm sorry t' disappoint them."

"Indeed, Kira-kun will be so disappointed."

It was hard to keep a straight face as Gin automatically jumped up in his seat. His eyes were softened in relief and excitement, but pulled taut in places as if filled with nervousness, distrust and scepticism. It seemed a part of him wanted to believe Aizen, to believe that the boy he loved was a few rooms away, waiting for dinner to begin, waiting for Gin to arrive . . . but there was that fear tingeing his excitement. There was the fear that if he allowed himself to believe his Kira-kun was just a few doors away, and then Kira wasn't really there, that he'd have to face the disappointment and pain that would come with that. Gin was not the type of person who wore his heart on his sleeve, but Rangiku could certainly attest that the moments when he revealed his pain were the most heartbreaking moments of all. There was something in his blue eyes that would speak volumes, something in his soft smile that would die away, and his heartfelt apologies could melt even a heart like Aizen's. It was both sobering and heart-warming to see Gin spark alive with a newfound sense of hope, and it made Aizen want to smile to see his friend so full of real life for the first time in so long.

The book in Gin's hand slid to the floor as he clenched at his seat, facing his father figure with complete interest and focus, and his eyes stayed on Aizen's face, never moving and never flickering.

Aizen gracefully reached down and lifted the book into his lap. It would not do to leave the item lying haphazardly on the floor, it would no doubt become damaged and Tousen – unable to see – would not be able to find it again. He contented himself for a moment tracing his fingers over the cover, yet he could decipher no discernable pattern to the raised dots, instead feeling only a bubbly mass, it was somewhat frustrating not to be able to read the words before him, it felt as if there was something the world knew but he did not.

There was a somewhat dangerous gleam in Gin's eyes. He seemed to be thinking, and that was typically the very last thing one wanted Gin to do. When the silver-haired man acted on instinct things always worked best, he would be lucid and carefree, doing things according to what the situation dictated, but when he thought about things . . .? It wasn't that he was vindictive, or rebellious, or even disobedient, but when he was given a chance to think things went from 'what will work best' to 'what will work best for me', and often that led to other people getting hurt or orders being 'disobeyed' as Gin began a 'work-to-rule'.

The most entertaining of these moments consisted many years ago, when Shinji had referred to Gin as 'Creepy-Face' one too many times and drastically hurt Gin's feelings and self-esteem. Gin had spent the entire night thinking, sitting in the corner of his bedroom in Aizen's home just thinking, without moving or sleeping . . . Shinji had been very crept out, but ignored him and went to work as per usual, and Gin (having had a day off from school for teacher training) went to Shinji's place of work. The silver-haired youth had sat in during several classes, helped Shinji with some paperwork during the small breaks, and then broke down into tears during lunchtime and had begged Shinji, in front of staff and students, not to beat him. He said he had only came to the university because the bruises from the previous night's beating caused him too much pain to sit for long, and he couldn't go home as Shinji had taken his keys away, and then on seeing Aizen enter he had ran into his arms and started asking if 'Daddy' would protect him from his evil boyfriend. Shinji hadn't seen the funny side, especially when Gin was grinning at him secretly as he clung to Aizen's waist.

So it was that if Gin shown that dark, sharpened expression that Aizen knew it could mean no good was to come . . . his only consolation was that he knew Gin would not betray him or antagonise him in any way. True, Aizen may note a lot more 'accidental eavesdropping' or thinly veiled, subtle insults, but he did not fear any actual wrath. If anything, it would be Shinji or Kisuke who'd later bear the brunt of Gin's misdirected anger and sadism.

"Kira-kun is here?"

"Yes, Gin," Aizen said softly and innocently. "Izuru has managed to convince his parents to allow him out unsupervised providing he has an adequate chaperone and, although during the day his friends do suffice, for the evenings he has asked that I chaperone." He smiled brightly and nodded his head indifferently, "I am mildly acquainted with the Kira family, and a famous public figure of great respect, they did not see any harm in allowing a family friend to supervise their son as he partakes in social gatherings. Kira has so far pretended to enjoy every social event I have hosted this week, telling his parents that he hopes to become as prominent a member of society as they are. His acting I must say is somewhat atrocious and, after six nights of merely hoping to see you, he has finally plucked up the courage to ask me to directly ask you."

Gin stood up and folded his arms across his narrow chest.

He turned his head to face a random spot and his smile disappeared entirely, leaving him with a mixture of an indifferent stare and an intense frown. His mouth actually pulled in the corners, and his eyes were hard and tight. Whilst it was true that Aizen threw many social events, not all of those were formal meals, and so Gin was left with the rather frustrating feeling that Aizen had chosen a meal to reveal Kira's appearance purposely, in order to coerce his friend into eating. He was of course rather relieved to know that his love and soulmate was within his reach, but the anger that Aizen could force him – or try to force him – into eating was unforgivable. Still, there was one small consolation . . . Gin may have to suffer a disagreeable meal just to spend time with Kira, but there was no reason why the case shouldn't be the same for Aizen, should it? He did have Shinji's number on speed-dial – accidentally of course – and the security would be easy to fool if he accidentally text Shinji the password for tonight's party, and maybe bribed a few guards . . . Plus if Aizen-sama was distracted then it meant more privacy for him and Kira!

"There are many guests this evening, so I ask that you be discreet. Kaname and his family may be spending the night, I have also invited Byakuya, his sister and future son-in-law, and I believe Jushiro and Kyoraku will also be attending. Alas, I did invite Kisuke and several of the Vizards, but they declined my invitation." Aizen stood up and gestured towards the door, a look of complete superiority hidden in his features and he smiled brightly, obviously believing he'd beaten Gin into submission . . . "Of course, I have arranged with Izuru's parents that he may spend the night, in fact they have allowed him one night here a week. I will make sure the security cameras are turned off in both your bedroom and within his."

"Really, Aizen-sama? Ya too kind, I ain't sure what to say . . ."

"It is my pleasure Gin, really."

Aizen escorted his friend to the door and stopped briefly outside the study. The party was still very early, some guests had yet to arrive and drinks were still being consumed as the staff prepared the dining room.

He had heard Izuru in the cloakroom talking on his phone to a young Abarai-kun, trying to convince him not to reveal the relationship to his parents, talking of how much he loved Gin. Yoruichi – for some reason – had decided to 'drop by', and was drinking sociably with Byakuya, who was keeping a very close eye on his sister, who seemed to be somewhat uncomfortable as she sat in a distance with a young Yamada-san, who had told Aizen excitedly how he had never been to such a formal meal before. No one else had arrived yet, save for Kaname and his family, and already Wonderweiss was shying away from certain people, he was a very introverted boy at the best of times but his autism seemed to increase his fear of new places, it probably did not help that the boy knew Gin could not be too far away – hopefully in time the youngster would learn to cope with these situations.

"Well, I shall return to my guests," Aizen said kindly. "I trust that you shall wish to change before you join us? I shall save a seat for you beside Izuru, you have half-an-hour to get ready."

"Thanks, Aizen-sama," came the slightly too sweet reply. "Ya mind if I invite a friend too? It'd be a nice distraction from the stress, an' yer'd like him, he's very silver-tongued . . ."

"Hmm? Is that so? Very well, you may invite your friend, Gin."

"Thanks, Aizen-sama, I appreciate it."

That bastard! That sneaky, low-down, two-faced bastard!

Ikkaku couldn't believe it. It had been over a week or so now but the pain of the betrayal was still heavy on his heart; it was like a battle wound that just wouldn't heal, a bruise that wouldn't fade, and each time he woke up it was the first thing on his mind, the first thing his heart felt. It hurt. It fucking hurt! He was angry, he was sad, he was frightened; it was like every bad feeling was welling up inside him, swirling around like being caught in the maelstrom, and no matter what he did he just couldn't get out of it. He'd drank, he'd fought, he'd even drank and fought at the same time with Iba, but no matter what he did that – that – that bastard was still on his goddamned mind!

He was a man, right? He was manly and strong and tough and masculine, so he shouldn't be dwelling on what that little bitch had done to him, he should be out there moving on! It wasn't – he shouldn't – it was just - . . . Fuck! It just wasn't right! How could Yumichika have him so worked up, so twisted and insecure? A real man shouldn't feel this way. A real man shouldn't care!

It was just that he'd given everything for Yumichika. Sure he was pretty young, and some had even told him he was too young to know what love was, but he knew what love was and he loved Yumi, he did! They'd been inseparable, each one understanding the other, or at least he'd thought so . . . how was it possible that Yumi could know him so well, understand his motivations and fears and strengths and weaknesses, and yet Ikkaku couldn't understand his lover at all? He hadn't seen his fear of abandonment, his dislike for direct combat, or even his complete insecurities that had led him to kiss another man. Yumi had kept all of it secret from him. Was it possible to love a man who kept secrets, who you didn't really know? After all, he did know Yumi; he knew everything about the man! He'd known how much he loved beauty, or how he'd sometimes hide translated copies of Plato inside fashion magazines, reading up on olden ideas of aesthetics whilst pretending to be an airhead, or how he'd hate eating in front of people, or how he secretly thought Zaraki's dojo was full of idiots, or how - . . . or how none of that was important anymore . . . Yumichika had lied to him. He'd lied. Ikkaku had risked his reputation with Sensei, nearly sacrificed his friendship with Renji, and given his heart to someone for the first time, and in return Yumichika had lied to him. What kind of man does that? What kind of man pretends to love you and then -? The thing that pissed Ikkaku off most was that Yumichika hadn't pretended. He had loved Ikkaku, and Ikkaku knew he had, and most of all he still did, he hadn't stopped loving Ikkaku. So why -? So why do what he did? Why do it?

Yumichika loved him. He did! If he didn't then why would he try to make amends, and why would he be so sorry, and why would he still be chasing after Ikkaku? The very next day after the kiss – the very next day – Yumichika had signed up at Zaraki's academy.

He didn't quite go so far as to enrol as a student full-time and stay in the dorms; he was still a full-time university student with plans of making it big as a model, and he still lived in a reasonable apartment that his mother paid for, albeit with a creepy, gun-toting, American guy as a doorman. It was still worth a lot though that Yumichika was willing to do something he hated, to do something he considered to be ugly, all in order to make things right with Zaraki and Ikkaku, and to be closer to his lover in the process. When Ikkaku curled his lip, huffed indignation, and called Yumi a hypocrite, the older man just sighed and called Ikkaku an idiot, he said that he had no qualms about supervised, sportsman-like sparring matches, it was only the brutal, violent, and street-brawls he objected to. He'd then proceeded to beat up every single one of his opponents, beating Ikkaku's record times, and returned to Ikkaku's side with a flick of his hair and smile, asking the bald man if he could do better.

That fucking bastard . . . it was because of that Ikkaku knew he was still in love and that he actually loved Yumi all the more! It wasn't fair! He was supposed to be angry, not turned on by how hot Yumi looked in his kendo uniform as he beat his opponents to a pulp! Damn him!

Yeah, they'd made up a little bit. They were being civil again at least, and Ikkaku could now spend more than two minutes alone with Yumi before he felt an urge to punch something, but they were far from being a couple again. It wasn't until last night when Ikkaku had heard crying from Sensei's office that he'd started to think maybe, just maybe, it was time to talk to his lover again properly. It had been weird, because he'd honestly thought at first it was Sensei crying, and frankly the thought had crept him out a little, but then he'd realised that – due to the lack of anyone else doing the job properly – Yumichika had been given the job of practically all administrative work, and that it was Yumi crying. Well, it's not like he had a choice; he had to talk to the guy, didn't he? It'd be pretty low not to, right? It turned out, after an hour talking, that Yumi had been so distraught over Ikkaku's disappearance and fighting that he'd turned to Hisagi for sympathy, hoping that he'd understand his fear, of always wondering – every day – whether his boyfriend's lust for fighting would get him killed or worse. Yumi was terrified, and when Hisagi kissed him he'd given in, needing the comfort and love that Ikkaku wasn't giving him, and then -? Then he'd realised what he was doing and felt disgusted with himself, sick and repulsed, and hating his ugly behaviour he'd attacked Hisagi and went straight to Ikkaku to repent. Ikkaku could understand the trauma and terror Yumi might have felt at losing Ikkaku, and he could somewhat understand turning to Hisagi, but a kiss was a kiss, and a betrayal was a betrayal, and he couldn't forgive his boyfriend that easily. Although when Yumi had torn up all of Hisagi's photos, deleted both his number and Renji's, and then threatened to scar his beautiful face so no other man but Ikkaku would want him, Ikkaku had started to forgive him . . . a little.

It was hard to forgive someone completely. Yumichika had kissed another man! So what if they hadn't slept together, or fondled, or took it further, it didn't mean that a kiss was any less intimate or any less of a betrayal of the heart . . . Great, just great, now he was sounding like some crappy love song! 'Betrayal of the heart'! What kind of man used words like those, huh? See, that was Yumi for you! He got in your head, twisted things around, made you fall in love with him and then let his abandonment issues screw things up, and then you had to forgive him because - . . . because if you didn't then you'd be no better than that fucking ass-wipe that abandoned Yumi in the first place. Ikkaku loved Yumi; he loved him enough not to make his issues worse, and loved him enough to prove to Yumi that some people could be trusted . . . and hated him just enough to rub it in his face that Yumi wasn't one of those people. Ha! He deserved a little guilt trip; he did kiss someone else after all!

So Ikkaku had ended up spending the night at Yumichika's place. Sensei hadn't minded, but Ikkaku ended up on the sofa because he was still pissed enough not to share a bed with his boyfriend, and Yumichika had respected that enough not to try and seduce him into the bedroom. They'd eaten breakfast, they'd chatted, they'd sparred a little, and then Yumichika went off to his photography class, and Ikkaku . . . Ikkaku had been pissed.

Suddenly it wasn't about the betrayal as such, it was about everything. He wanted closure, he wanted to defend Yumi's honour, he wanted payback – he just wanted to make his anger go fucking away! It wasn't just Yumi after all, it was that damned Hisagi too, the damned Hisagi who'd taken advantage of his boyfriend, who'd used him in his moment of need, who'd – who'd – who'd even did it in front of Kira! Yeah! Who does that? No one should kiss in front of some blond kid, and that was for sure! No, he wasn't just looking for excuses, he just wanted to show this Hisagi guy what for and teach him a lesson, because no one touched his best friend and lover and got away with it! No one!

So it was that he'd ended up stealing Yumichika's employee badge, reading his journal for the entry codes, and heading over to Vizard headquarters on the very next bus he could find . . . sadly after stopping by Zaraki's for permission to go, which resulted in a little pink-haired brat asking to go with him, and her father saying 'yes' in hopes babysitting a child would prevent Ikkaku from getting in trouble.

It had been surprisingly easy to get into the building, and when the security guards had asked about why the photograph on the ID was so different to what he looked like, he'd responded with that he'd shaved off his hair, and then was forced to chase after Yachiru as she ran after a 'doggy-chan!' that was supposed to be used as a prop for a photo-shoot. Admittedly they'd gotten lost a few times after that, and Ikkaku had knocked out a couple of security guards on the fifth floor after they had the nerve to call him 'bald', but after another ten minutes they'd soon found the right department, albeit it was rather empty considering it was the main office to the heads of the company. Wasn't there supposed to be eight people in charge of the place? Why could he only see a creepy woman in a schoolgirl outfit, and a short, feminine man in a waistcoat and cat ears?

"May I help you?"

It was the weird-looking woman in a school uniform that spoke. She was sitting cross-legged with her feet up upon her desk, and Ikkaku was grateful she was cross-legged because her skirt was so short any subtle movement was sure to give anyone opposite her an eye full. Still, she had an air about her that was somewhat disturbing. She seemed so serious, so strong, like a woman who was in charge of the world and wanted the world to just realise it . . . and the creepy man wearing a waistcoat and massaging her feet didn't help the image at all.

"Yay! Kitty!" Yachiru bounced up and down a few times next to Ikkaku, clapping her hands and gazing at the creepy guy wearing the waistcoat and cat ears, then gazed at the lady with big, dark eyes. "Can I play with him, School Lady? Can I? Can I?"

"Sure, make sure you find his tail and pull it hard too."

Ikkaku spluttered hard as Yachiru squealed loudly and dived for the poor man, jumping on his back and kicking him hard to make him move. The problem was – did that – no way did she - . . . Did that woman really say something so inappropriate to a hyperactive child that would probably take her literally? Ikkaku was just a teenager himself, and he wouldn't dare say anything like that to a kid! What kind of adult – what would – if he just - . . . That wasn't freaking right!

"Relax," the woman said as she shuffled some papers. "I was just joking. If your sister really does try to find Luppi-san's tail then I'll be sure to stop her, it's not like we need any more lawsuits around this place."

"Huh? What? How man damned kids pulls tails around here!"

She smiled in such a creepy way that it was like looking at a female version of Gin, and Ikkaku shivered. When she spoke her voice was all bitter and slippery, just like his former history teacher, and it made him want to go find a corner to hide in and forget all about Hisagi . . . He almost felt sorry for Hisagi working in a place like this, no wonder he kissed Yumi, he was probably suffering from post traumatic stress or something. God only knew what they did to him here.

"My, and they say I'm the pervert," she said coldly. "Now, may I help you?"

"Err, I'm looking for Hisagi-san," Ikkaku said nervously, ignoring the squeals of Yachiru as she tried to give Luppi earrings, which meant trying to insert pens into his eardrums. "Isn't anyone else here? I'd really like it if someone . . . responsible was here. I don't feel right leaving my sensei's daughter in a room with a man wearing cat ears, and a woman who uses 'tail' as a euphemism for –"

"Some of the Vizards are attending an informal meeting. The rest are asleep, five o'clock in the afternoon really is too early to expect them to be over their hangovers, you silly boy." She bent down and lifted Yachiru from Luppi, who was literally huddled against the desk on the verge of a panic attack, with his hair full of paperclips and face covered in pink pen, "I'll watch this thing for you. It can only be five, perfect age. Hisagi-kun is over there by the copier, just through that door next to the desk to your right. Enjoy yourself."

"Err, thanks?"

"My pleasure."

Ikkaku carefully began walking backwards across the main office, he made sure to keep a very close eye on Yachiru as he walked. The girl seemed happy enough, she was throwing around pieces of paper as the Vizard woman handed over pieces of chocolate, and although Ikkaku was tempted to scream 'don't eat that!' in case it was poisoned, he decided not to. The way he saw it the Vizard wouldn't dare poison a little girl . . . true she looked like the sort to slip sedatives into the juice, or give the kid sugar in hopes that after a harsh sugar high the kid would crash, but she didn't seem like she'd do any harm to children, or at least he hoped not. Still, he had his phone with him, he could kick ass, and as long as he kept Yachiru in his eye line then all should be okay. He was still a little worried that they might start using her in some sort of child labour, or let her bounce out of a window, but if he acted too concerned Yachiru would only bite him hard and cause him to scream out in pain . . . at least she could take care of herself, the little brat.

He gave a little sigh and ran a hand over his head, then turned and walked past the nearest desk on the far right. It was a pretty strange layout. The main office was a huge circular shape with eight desks all around, and whilst a part of him wanted to assume one belonged to each Vizard, he'd actually walked past several private offices with names on. He'd already seen 'Hirako Shinji' and 'Muguruma Ke-Sucks!' with the latter having a graffiti picture of what seemed to be a smiling poo to go with it.

When he looked around it seemed this place was pretty casual, more like a meeting room, a place to come and sit down and have the other editors and owners around to bounce ideas off, and the whole round thing seemed pretty cool too, like Arthur and his round table. He was pretty glad he didn't work here though, because one chair had a whoopee cushion on it and on a far desk that Luppi guy was pouring superglue all over the top, come to think of it he was sure someone had messed with the legs on the nearest table, the slightest bit of pressure and it'd collapse! Hey, come to think of it, that couldn't be a stash of beer and sake under the table in the corner, could it? What kind of people ran this place? That was it; no way was he taking his eyes off from Yachiru! Luckily the little side-offices and storage rooms attached to this main office had glass windows, and it kind of gave the impression that the Vizards were using the main room as an office (which should have been used by their secretaries), and the actual offices as storage rooms or places for their secretaries. Huh, these people were backward freaks . . . how Hisagi could stand to work for these people he'd never know!

Ikkaku walked straight into the side room the Vizard had pointed out. He kept sending backwards glances at Yachiru, and surprisingly she seemed to be in a very calm, civil conversation with the lady, and although she seemed very childlike and happy she was a lot calmer than she'd ever been. Wow, maybe the Vizards really did have some talents after all?

The room was pretty small; just enough room for a copier and a fax machine, and high on a shelf was an old, beat-up radio playing some of the latest tunes from the Visual Kei bands. It was pretty loud, loud enough to have drowned out much of the conversation Ikkaku had with the Vizard lady, but because it was so banged-up the volume kept going from high to low, and because of the layout (and soundproofing of the office) it was hard to hear it from the main room anyway. It meant that when Ikkaku entered that Hisagi didn't notice. His back was to the door and it was only when Ikkaku turned off the machine that Hisagi realised he had company, he turned around slowly, hands full of latest reports, and frowned as he saw Ikkaku standing there, holding himself in a fighting stance.

"Madarame-san?" Hisagi frowned as he looked Ikkaku up and down, "what are you doing here? Can I help you?"

Ikkaku was standing there looking as idiotic as ever.

He had the most insane grin that he'd ever seen, and seemed like he was looking for a fight. It was strange, but Hisagi really couldn't think of any reasons why a boy like Ikkaku would want to start something with him, after all they barely ever spoke or saw each other. The last time Hisagi remembered seeing the kid was at some house party a while back, and before then it had to have been around a year or so back. He remembered because it was around the time that Tousen-san was still working for that publishing company, and Hisagi had served as his assistant, and after something bad had been written about in some book or other about Zaraki's academy the man had turned up himself to 'talk' to Tousen. It had been surprisingly civil . . . until Yumichika had sided with Ikkaku in a fight against himself and Iba trying to defend their sensei. It hadn't been long after that they'd broken up for good. They'd actually broken up officially when Hisagi headed to university, leaving Yumichika behind, and at first it'd been kind of hard with a few nights together in the holidays, but by his second year at university Hisagi had met Kensei . . .

It was then he'd started dating Hisagi, and it was then that they'd began working together, and when Tousen quit to work full-time for Aizen Hisagi had decided to just stay working for Kensei. He'd never regretted it, and he'd never looked back. The publishing firm had been great, but it'd been so stressful! Then there was all the drama with Yumi, and he really couldn't deal with that guy's issues, so frankly he was a lot happier here. All in all life was a lot easier.

Still, it didn't explain what Ikkaku was doing here. The man only ever came near him when he was looking for a fight, or when he was forced to by the likes of Yumi or Renji, and he sure as hell didn't shy away from his feelings about things either. He looked pissed, and Hisagi wasn't entirely sure why . . . then it hit him. This had to be about Yumichika! Ikkaku was here for revenge or to defend his boyfriend's honour, or some shit like that, and it'd obviously taken him a week to get up the nerve or to blame Hisagi. He'd be willing to bet he'd made up with Yumi, that they were back together, and he was looking to pound on Hisagi just to make himself feel better about things. It made him jealous in a way, because Yumichika was the one who started it – he was the one who kissed him – and yet here he was, back with Ikkaku with his boyfriend crazy enough about him to fight for him, and what about Hisagi? He hadn't even started the kiss and yet he'd been the one to get beaten up, he'd been the one to be kicked out of his home, and when all that was done Kensei hadn't said sorry by any conventional means, or trying to defend his honour like Ikkaku had to Yumi, instead he'd sang drunkenly at a window until Kira's parents called the cops on him. Part of him just wanted a real, heartfelt apology and some real security in the relationship, some knowledge that Kensei wanted him and that he wasn't going anywhere, and instead all he got was front page news about the domestic abuse and drunken serenades. Where was the romance?

"If you're here to cause trouble," Hisagi said, shuffling the papers onto a barely-there side-table, "then I'm really not in the mood, Ikkaku. I need to find a new place to live, and preferably a new job in a different department away from Muguruma-san, and I don't need you to –"

He hadn't seen the blow coming. He'd barely finished his sentence when Ikkaku's fist came out of nowhere and hit him hard on the jaw, exactly in the spot where Kensei had struck him, and at once the cut on his lip tore open.

It was a hard hit and his whole jaw was bruised. His neck ached as he'd been force to twist it at an awkward angle, and – worse of all – the punch had knocked him off his feet and caused him to be sent flying sideways. He crashed hard against the office window, his forehead striking the glass, causing it to crack under the pressure, and he could feel the trickling of blood down his face. He'd landed oddly on his arm and his whole shoulder was in agony. Damn it! That kid wasn't messing about, and he sure could pack a punch! He couldn't just go and start hitting him back though, Tousen had always taught him to refrain from violence whenever possible and he didn't want to disappoint his friend, besides Ikkaku was just a kid! If he struck him hard back then Yumichika would be pissed, Zaraki would get involved, Renji would start siding with Ikkaku too . . . The main reason he wouldn't hit back though was that through the glass he could see Lisa at her desk, with some pink-haired kid with her, one that obviously knew Ikkaku. The brat was chanting 'Baldy! Baldy!' and giggling wildly, and there was no way he could punch a man in front of a child, especially not when the kid was so innocent and obviously had affection for Ikkaku. He couldn't traumatise her like that, he couldn't.

He tried not to wince as he saw Ikkaku coming straight for him, he wasn't scared of some punk kid and he certainly wasn't going to show him any fear either. He felt almost sick that Yumichika had chosen this brat over him or Renji. Ikkaku was reckless, violent and a complete fool, there was no way a man like Yumi should be with him. It wasn't that Hisagi loved Yumi any more, but he still cared for him as a friend, and friends looked out for each other, he deserved better. Yet when Ikkaku came at him one more time, with his hand raised high in a fist, ready to strike him . . . he actually closed his eyes and flinched. He actually flinched! It wasn't until he realised he hadn't been hit that he opened his eyes and looked up . . .

"Ken-Kensei?"

Kensei was standing right behind Ikkaku with the guy's fist in his hand, looking down at him with a less than impressed expression. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe to threaten Ikkaku before kicking his ass, but before he could say or do anything the little pink-haired kid ran inside the office. Hisagi was glad he was paying attention, because she moved so fast that he would have missed her entirely if he so much as blinked. She ran around and punched Kensei hard in the groin, and as he bent over Ikkaku elbowed him in the nose (pulling his fist free of Kensei) and made a snide comment about how at least he'd never beat Yumi up, and then punched him in the stomach. Yachiru cheered at this before stamping hard on Kensei's foot, declaring 'that's because Scars kissed Feathers!' she then jumped on Ikkaku's back as the two ran out of there . . . which was a good choice considering Kensei looked like he was two seconds away from ripping someone's head off.

Hisagi could only hope that it wouldn't be him suffering for this . . .


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

"Yoruichi-sama, I am beginning to feel this sort of behaviour is making it very difficult for me to carry out my duties."

For a very long time Soi Fon had been thinking about saying that; she'd think it at the most relevant of moments, but in the end her respect and adoration for Yoruichi-sama would always overcome her need to voice her opinion. Tonight had been an utter sham, Yoruichi-sama heard Sosuke Aizen was hosting a party and decided it would be neighbourly to just 'drop by'. Despite Soi Fon's overall disapprovement of this 'adventure' in the first place, Yoruichi-sama had proceeded to pick out outfits for both of them and have them arrive with Byakuya Kuchiki and his family.

She had never liked Kisuke… he was a lazy, irritating fool – barely worthy of Yoruichi-sama's recognition… but even she would admit Sosuke Aizen's actions towards him years ago were palpably wrong. It was one of the cruel facts of life; you could spend your whole life working for the top, to get there and have it all taken away in moments. It was the random chaos of the world that made Soi Fon almost grateful she was just a servant. Perhaps it was partly the reason she'd never openly voiced her love for Yoruichi-sama, if the older woman accepted her they would get together… what if it ended badly? What if Yoruichi-sama met someone better? She wasn't sure she'd be able to move on with herself, particularly when her life revolved around her job…

The last few weeks had not exactly been the pinnacle of her career… Ômaeda, despite coming from a rich family, had worked in security throughout his twenties and had been promoted onto Yoruichi-sama's staff. He was a spoilt little rich boy, notoriously lazy, great with technology (his only plus on a long list on minuses) in a way Soi Fon just wasn't, and immensely disgusting. She knew he'd installed camera somewhere in Yoruichi's bathroom but wasn't quite able to locate them yet; naturally Soi Fon worked around this by steaming up the room before Yoruichi-sama was due for a shower and covering the most likely areas for these mystery cameras with towels or soap bags.

Her last few weeks of work had revolved around training him… which was by no means a quick and efficient way to enjoy your day. He liked driving Yoruichi-sama around in her limo, he liked eating food at social events, he liked to make stupid observations and brag to various people about his position of power. He frequently whined that he deserved a gun – like Soi Fon. She had a rather favourite way of answering each and every one of his stupid questions; a short 'No', or an arrogant speech about her personal martial arts of fire arms training and how Ômaeda lacked all of that.

After a stressful few weeks, Ômaeda's training was complete and Soi Fon wanted to spend a relaxing night in with Yoruichi-sama. It was rare she longed for relaxation, but tonight had been one of those times. This was quickly shattered when Yoruichi returned from her closet, holding two evening gowns, declaring, "We're going to Sosuke Aizen's party, Soi Fon. What are you doing, get dressed!"

So here she stood, in a childish yellow dress, wishing she'd had the ability to explain her frustration over training that oaf, her dislike for Sosuke Aizen and furthermore, the fact that this dress was so childish and inappropriate. Sure enough, she'd have to trust Yoruichi-sama's judgement, as she did for all things… but it couldn't be so terribly awful to voice your own opinion sometimes?

The two of them were stood in the lobby, having a stiff haired servant take their coats, whilst Byakuya Kuchiki finished his cell phone call. Rukia-san was of a similar height to Soi Fon, stood beside her, wearing a pretty blue dress – something appropriate for a young woman from a noble family, something not too womanly but not at all childish. It made Soi Fon feel as though she was one of those creepy older women who dress as young girls for reasons Freud could give in great detail. The young man with them, Hanataro Yamada who seemed very shy, was stood beside Rukia-san, looking incredibly embarrassed and a little in awe of the expensive decour of the mansion. Yoruchi-sama was chatting to the door-man of the party, asking who else was attending the party, telling him about her trip to Kyoto when Soi Fon had just come out with it there – but she'd not just said it, she sorted of yelled it at her.

"Yoruichi-sama, I am beginning to feel this sort of behaviour is making it very difficult for me to carry out my duties."

After she'd spoken, Soi Fon realized what a stupid thing it was to say – especially out of the blue like that… What was she – a fool? Her cheeks coloured up, Byakuya Kuchiki had finished his phone call and was looking at her strangely, Rukia-san and Hanataro Yamada had looked over at her in obvious surprise. The door-man looked confused, Yoruichi-sama was staring at her too, she looked confused. There was a moment of awkward silence, before she felt the servant tugging at her coat.

"Excuse me, miss, I'll need to take that."

"No, I'd much rather keep it on," she insisted, not at all liking being touched by some strange old woman. Furthermore, how on earth was she meant to have any weaponry in the dress she was wearing? She was wearing a gun holster on her thigh, which was very uncomfortable, it kept snagging on the material of the ugly dress, and she also had a pocket taser in her bra. In her coat she had the means to call reinforcements and an extendable blade. She had intended to bring a small handbag, but Yoruichi-sama had taken it saying all they would need was a cell phone, which she would keep on her person. How was she meant to call reinforcements or protect Yoruichi-sama with an extendable blade if this demented old woman took her coat?

Yoruichi-sama took her arm, "Excuse me, Byakuya, Rukia-chan, Hanataro-kun, we'll be two moments," she smiled charmingly at the old woman, "Would you mind pointing us towards a rest room?"

After that they were led to a large downstairs bathroom with what appeared to be a white marble floor. White was a running theme throughout Sosuke Aizen's home… so it appeared. Yoruichi-sama locked the door and stood there with her arms folded, "What's going on, Soi Fon? This isn't like you."

All at once she swallowed her pride and looked embarrassedly at the floor, "I'm sorry, Yoruichi-sama, I don't know what came over me."

"Yes you do," she said instantly. "Come on, you used to do this as a child. You've made a lot of improvements since then, so tell me what's wrong." Her tone was soft, Yoruichi-sama was always so capable of saying the perfect things… often it was wasted on someone as proud of Soi Fon – no matter how kind and understanding Yoruichi-sama would seem, any sort of formality towards her seemed so disrespectful to one of the Fon clan.

Soi Fon shuffled her feet, something she did incredibly rarely and the likes of Yoruichi-sama and her father were the only ones to have witnessed. She took a little breath, "I apologize… I-I… It's just, I want to be able to carry out my job properly and protect you to the best of my ability! I find it very difficult to do that… in these sorts of clothes." It was honest, it sounded horribly rude, but at least it was an honest answer – no warrior could fight in something so stiff – so frilly…

Yoruichi-sama wasn't saying anything, which normally meant she wanted her to continue.

"It's very frustrating for me, m'am… Protecting you is everything to me. If anything happened to you because of my incompetence.." she cleared her throat, her hands knotting together behind her back, "I don't know what I'd do. I'm worried and edgy and frustrated over training that incompetent fool…"

He was worse than an incompetent fool. After she'd made him run 300 laps (he'd dropped like a stone at 200, which she thought was good for him) Ômaeda thought it would be a good idea to try and blackmail her – the head of security – into giving him less work. The fat lump attempted to force what appeared to be 6,722 yen into her hand. Disgraceful…

Soi Fon decided now was a good time to demand he took down the camera in Yoruichi-sama's bathroom. He went a funny shade of pink, like any spoilt little rich boy, he assumed he would be able to talk his way out of this. Ômaeda drew himself to his full height and said, raising his hands defensively, "I don't know what you're talking about, Taichou. But… perhaps you'd make my training a little less harsh if I was to give you a copy of whatever footage these cameras pick up?"

Admittedly, that was where she'd faltered in her verbal assault, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh come on," he sounded exasperated, "Like you wouldn't want a video of Yoruichi-sama naked!"

Naturally, that was too much for Soi Fon. She would tell Yoruichi-sama how she felt in due time – when she was ready! How dare anyone notice how she felt! It was private, personal – furthermore, a warrior's true feelings are meant to stay close to their heart where nobody can see them! How dare that pathetic fool think he can talk to her – much less bribe her with matters of the heart!

Yes, yes, Ômaeda would find himself trapped under walls of paperwork whilst being watched by members of Soi Fon's personal SWAT team. She'd had him clean out the horses, with dinner (which consisted of old stale rice crackers and celery) bought to him at the designated meal times. That fool – that scum bag – that…!

She was taken from her thoughts when she felt Yoruichi-sama's hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. Soi Fon looked up into her face, going pink as the older woman stood closer.

"Soi Fon, this is a party. Nobody is going to attack me here. You worry so much, I trust you with my life. But you worry so much, you're a young woman. I insisted on us coming, partly because you never relax. I wanted us to go out and have fun and a high class dinner party would be the best way to introduce you to that," she paused, laughing gently, "I guess you're more uptight than I thought," Yoruichi-sama raised a hand and ruffled her hair affectionately, "I am sorry for upsetting you."

"No, m'am! You couldn't upset me," Soi Fon spoke out, her face going an even more embarrassing shade of crimson, "I just…" she smiled gently, looking up at her, "I'm sorry too. I'll try my best to enjoy the party, Yoruichi-sama. I apologize for making a scene – I"

Yoruichi-sama shook her head, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she led her out of the bathroom, "Not to worry, stop your apologizing. Let's just go and make the best of it. I'm just glad we got in without an invitation, Aizen has a password only process of getting in – just like you had when we went to California," she chatted away brightly.

Soi Fon wasn't too pleased about being compared to Sosuke Aizen, but at least things had calmed down. "Erm, Yoruichi-sama," she asked, her tone a little more casual, feeling brave enough to ask if the childish dress had been selected in a subtle way for Yoruichi-sama wanted her to stop being a prude? "I was just wondering if you perhaps chose this dress to further address your point?"

Her boss looked a little confused, then shook her head, "What? No, I chose the dress because I thought it'd look cute on you. And I was right!"

Oh Lord…

"Do you think they're alright?" Rukia asked, leaning over Hanataro a little to glance towards the corridor leading to the bathroom Yoruichi and Soi Fon had headed down a few moments before.

Hanataro shifted nervously, "Hopefully… I mean, that Chinese girl seemed really upset about something…"

The shorter girl shrugged her shoulders, "Soi Fon is a really unusual lady," she glanced around nervously in case her brother was around before whispering, "Two years ago at New Years a business associate of my brother's tried to kiss Yoruichi when the clock struck 12 – Soi Fon hit the guy in three pressure points and paralysed him temporarily," Rukia chuckled, "She's a martial arts Master, someone you really wouldn't want to mess with… She's also completely and utterly in love with her boss."

"Yeah," Hanataro admitted, "I was sort of getting that impression too."

He'd never been to a party like this, something so classy and high class. It made him feel nervous – luckily the host was really nice. Sosuke Aizen was someone you heard a lot of rumours about – superficially charming, an excellent businessman, the face of anti-sexual harassment in the workplace, a terrifying lawyer… but he wasn't one to support snobbery. Some people wouldn't have been so nice about Hanataro's wide-eyed stares at their home.

The two of them laughed nervously, blushing as their hands touched. Hanataro recoiled, his hand in his pocket, Rukia's cheeks had gone pink and she looked around the corridor quickly, before she let out a gasp, "Hey – isn't that… Kira-kun?"

Hanataro remembered Izuru Kira from first aid class in primary school and a few social gatherings since. They didn't talk a lot, but shared a kind of awkward affinity, as both were shy and mild mannered. Though he was beginning to wonder what Kira-kun was doing here – it was definitely him, coming out of one of the rooms, tucking his mobile phone into his trouser pocket.

Kira-kun looked up and saw the two of them and walked over, smiling nervously, "Oh, hello, Rukia-san, Hanataro-san, are you… here for the party?"

Rukia nodded brightly, "Yes, we came with my brother… I think he's having another business call. Who have you come with?"

There was a flicker of embarrassment and excitement over Kira-kun's face all at the same time, he shifted nervously and said, "I was invited personally by Aizen-sama."

After a pause, Rukia seemed to remember something, before she smiled and said, "Oh," in an understanding way… which made Hanataro wonder if it was something school related… hopefully she'd let him in on it later.

Hanataro remembered hearing a few days ago from Rukia and Renji-kun that Gin Ichimaru-Sensei had lost his job at Karakura High – Renji-kun had been positive it was due to the sexual harassment of a student. Hanataro was trying to remember which student they'd been talking about… Naturally, Rukia had been thrilled about Ichimaru-Sensei leaving, he'd always given her the creeps.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, if you wouldn't mind coming into the living room whilst dinner is being sorted?" A portly servant called from the living room door, waving a hand towards it.

"I'll see you in there," Kira-kun piped up, before he began making his way towards the staircase. Hanataro half wondered why and was about to ask, when he felt Rukia's hand on his arm. He went completely rigid, a sort of fluttering jellied feeling inside him – as well as an irritating desire to just act normal!

"Shall we?" Rukia asked quietly, her cheeks had gone the most adorable shade of pink, "… go inside, I mean?"

"Yes," he began walking towards the doorway with her, a large gaggle of party guests joining them; some of which Hanataro recognized, others he did not. As they met with the other guests, Rukia glanced over her shoulder to see Kira-kun at the bottom of the stairs. She saw his mouth widen into a bright smile and he rushed into the arms of Ichimaru Gin, who held him to him tightly, his silvery head buried in the boy's shoulder.

Inside the sitting room were quite a large gaggle of guests. Byakuya-san was now stood by the fireplace, talking to Jushiro Ukitake and Shunsui Kyoraku. Yoruichi-san and Soi Fon-san had entered the room behind them, the dark skinned woman rushing to Ukitake and hugging him around the shoulders. Hanataro's eyes widened a little as he saw Unohana-Sensei stood with Isane-san not too far away, talking to Isane-san's little sister, Kiyone-chan and her fiancé, Sentaro-san. It would be nice to see Unohana-Sensei again, especially as he was quite keen to begin working for her once he was finished at medical school.

It was a bit of a turnout, Yoruichi had to admit. Sosuke Aizen was a lot of things, but apparently being someone who could send out a good guest list was one of them. It was a well-known fact that as a self made billionaire he tended to do – as anyone who had to work hard for where they were – a lot of things one would normally leave to a PA himself. Yoruichi had always found that to be a very positive quality in a boss, it was something she'd encouraged in Byakuya. After all, it was very easy to put too much faith in the silver spoon in your mouth.

It was wonderful to see Jushiro looking like himself again. He had colour in his face and was in excellent spirits. The last time they'd spoken he'd told her he was keen to get back to teaching – after all, it had been his life.

"I'm glad to see you looking so good," she hugged him again around the shoulders, taking a moment to remind herself of his scent, the softness of his hair against her forehead. It felt so strange those months before the idea of losing him had become an unfortunate reality. She wondered if it was perhaps the fact Jushiro had been saved that made her think deep down she had not been ready to lose him at all.

"Thank-you, Yoruichi-san," he pulled back from the hug, smiling affectionately at her, "You're looking very well yourself. That is a very beautiful dress."

She chuckled, "It was a present from an admirer," Yoruichi glanced down at the elegant fabric, before winking at him teasingly, "So have you heard anything more from Karakura High?"

The older man beamed at her, "Oh yes. As soon as my physician approves me I can return to my old job. I must say I'm very excited about it," he fixed his collar, "Shunsui and Ichimaru-kun have been most helpful getting me up to speed with marking and topics. They've been angels."

It sounded more like they wanted somewhere to dump their workload, but if it made Jushiro happy it fair enough. If she recalled, Shunsui was always asking for 'help' with his essay marking, which translated as putting on a pout and grumbling under Jushiro would do it for him. That guy was like a big kid.

"Yes, angels," she said, her eyes rolling as she saw Shunsui Kyoraku taking out a small bottle of sake and adding it to his punch.

Sosuke Aizen's biggest fall-back seemed to be a lack of a fun loving spirit – poor Shinji Hirako had voiced this on numerous occasions whilst they drove him home from a bar. He'd say: 'Ya know what, I don't even knows why I slept with him – I mean, sure e's a good lay – everyone can use a good lay – but e's not fun! E don't even drink – drinks fuckin' cranberry juice!' This would normally be spoken before he started scrambling about and telling Kisuke to 'Open the hatch' so he could vomit, or passing out into her chest, which had happened once and Soi Fon nearly crashed the car.

"I'll take that," Nanao Ise reached out and snatched the bottle from his hand and the drink, pouring it into one of the bins and putting the bottle in her handbag. Her expression of utter contempt for her boss, who was pouting and tugging at her arm (Nanao-chan, that's mine!).

"Nanao-san has been perfect," he added, "She works harder than Shunsui asks her too," he smiled affectionately, "I feel very lucky to have so many people in my life who are so prepared to help me out."

She hooked her arm through his, "And we're all thankful that you're here, Jushiro."

Sometimes it felt strange to look around at the people around her. At her own parties she'd see Jushiro and Shunsui, Nanao, Kiyone and Sentaro, Unohana-san and her assistant Isane, she'd see Kisuke, Tessai and the Vizards. Byakuya would be there, awkwardly so, but he'd always show up if she insisted… It almost felt like not much had changed aside their ages. Shunsui would have a few more grey hairs, Kisuke would look more exhausted, Shinji got his tongue pierced… Yoruichi would find herself wondering why Kukaku was arriving without Kaien – and all of a sudden you'd be faced with a sinking feeling that one of your dearest friends had died before he was even thirty.

She'd think about Kaien from time to time, she knew Jushiro would too. She'd remember him as the brave boy who rode with his sister in the ambulance when her arm was so badly damaged it needed to be amputated, the laughing teenage boy who climbed with her onto a bill board and the two of them painted it, or the dark haired bright eyed man who'd looked so very happy on his wedding day. The happy memories made it less painful to think about how he suffered through the death of his wife, the man who died protecting Rukia-chan from Koga Kuchiki.

"Yoruichi-sama, would you like me to fetch you a drink?" Soi Fon spoke up, bowing politely. It was sort of adorable that she adopted a man's bow from a very young age, it was probably due to her hardened father.

"Yes, thank you, Soi Fon," she waved her hand carelessly, rolling her eyes playfully at the stiff way her bodyguard walked. Soi Fon was such an unfortunate at times, she threw herself head first into her career and never looked back. She'd still feel guilty that her most trusted bodyguard had never… had a relationship or gone to a nightclub (off duty), or had whole days where she did nothing but watch old films and eat chocolate. Every girl was supposed to do that at some point – and it was futile to show Soi Fon this behaviour through them doing it together, because then all she'd do was watch Yoruichi and sit there stiffly. It was like fighting a one-sided sumo match. It made her happy that Soi Fon was happy working for her and being beside her… but Yoruichi cared about her, and it made her feel guilty that there was this whole other element of life that Soi Fon would turn away from.

"She's very attached to you," Jushiro said, his tone was amused, caring, but definitely amused. Shunsui frequently teased her about Soi Fon's utter adoration (normally asking if Yoruichi had any near future plans to ask her body-guard to 'come protect her in the bed', which was normally met by her smacking him over the head or just laughing).

"Yes she is," Yoruichi smiled gently, folding her arms across her chest, "I think if I told her I felt the same she'd have a heart attack," she chuckled, her eyes deep in thought, "So I suppose I'll have to keep it to myself."

Jushiro patted her on the back, laughing, "She might surprise you."

Yoruichi shook her head, "I know her too well. Poor Soi Fon has no surprises left for me."

"Nemu, you wretched girl, what have you done now?"

Sometimes it was not unlike watching a child abuse advert. Mayuri Kurostuchi was possibly the worst human being ever; he'd worked with Kisuke a lot in the past, though Yoruichi didn't particularly like him. More recently he'd worked on the formula that saved Jushiro's life, so she wouldn't be rude if he spoke to her today… still, she loathed the way he spoke to his daughter Nemu.

It made her wonder what Unohana-san saw in her husband. They'd been married for such a long time – she'd heard from Kisuke that Unohana-san saved Kurotsuchi from a life of crime. They were both utterly brilliant doctors; apparently in many cases they were rivals in upgrading their treatments. In their own strange ways, they were utterly terrifying alone, which heightened to a maximum level when they were together.

"Excuse me," Unohana-san spoke up to her assistant's, crossing the room to her husband.

From what Yoruichi could see, Nemu told her father the wrong time for the party and they were twenty minutes late. It made her curl her lip slightly and wish someone would just un-invite him…

"Darling," Retsu Unohana slipped an arm around her husband's waist, her tone a little dangerously sweet, lips drawn into the sinister smile that would bring a man like Kenpachi Zaraki to his knees, "I don't think I heard you right, did you just call our daughter 'wretched'?"

Was that a trickle of fear?

He shook his head awkwardly, fixing his tie, "You have misheard me."

"Yes, I'm sure I did, now I believe you needed to speak to Sosuke Aizen?" she kissed him lightly on the cheek, before turning her back, taking her daughter's arm and leading her back over to the others. Nemu nodded her head politely – Yoruichi noticed she was in the habit of curtseying to Byakuya – which she found completely amusing as the younger man looked as embarrassed as someone of his temperament could get.

"I have no idea how you handle him, Retsu," Shunsui patted Unohana-san on the back, chuckling darkly, before adding, "I mean no offence of course, Nemu-chan," presenting the younger woman with a toothy grin.

Unohana-san laughed politely, taking a sip of her drink, "He has his moments. I believe he is feeling uneasy coming here and seeing his old protégé."

She was of course referring to Szayel Aporro Grantz, whom she could make out across the room, talking quietly to a good-looking young blonde. The last time Yoruichi was unfortunate enough to clap eyes on him was years ago during his lawsuit, back then he'd looked rough as hell. He'd been paler, almost sickly, unkept shoulder length pink hair, wide amber eyes and sickeningly thin. It was years ago, when Mayuri took him to court to get him banned from the medical profession. Szayel Aporro Grantz was declared temporarily insane, and banned from the medical profession.

Before Aizen came to his rescue of course.

"He's looking well for a madman," Yoruichi smirked, rolling her eyes, "I don't recognize who he's talking too though. Is it one of Aizen's employees?"

Isane-san nodded her head, "Yes, I went to high school with that man. Tesla-kun, he's a secretary at Arrancar."

Her eyes trailed up and down the lean form of the blonde. He couldn't be older than twenty-four-years-old – he'd taken off his suit jacket, his pants tight enough to show off a really tight firm backside. The older woman smirked, folding her arms, she laughed, leaning in to Unohana to whisper, "Hmm, maybe I should get a secretary."

Unohana giggled behind her hand, patting her on the shoulder, "Yoruichi-san," she lowered her voice, "I'm sure that nice young man would rather keep his face just the way it is… and if Soi Fon hears you talking that way," she winked playfully, both women laughed, Yoruichi glancing over her shoulder at Soi Fon as she did.

Unaware of the eyes on him, Tesla turned his attention back to Szayel, who was pretending to look out of the window. He cleared his throat, "Szayel-san," he swallowed nervously, "I know something happened between you and Nnoitra-sama the other day," he looked up at the other man, "He won't talk to me."

"Nnoitra is that sort of man," Szayel looked up, giving him a smirk, "Just because he's in a bad mood doesn't mean I had something to do with it."

Tesla shook his head, "I'm not being rude, sir, but I know it was to do with you. I'm a good judge of what bothers Nnoitra-sama," he coughed into his hand, "I know… what he did was… stupid. But he loves you," he looked up and held his gaze, "You know that, right?"

That sort of talk made him tense. Nnoitra never spoke that way, when they were together he'd say things like 'It's… good yer here' out of the blue whilst looking off embarrassedly into the opposite direction, or snuggle up to him in bed, then pretend it was an accident. Even though in his own way, he'd told him he loved him every day, it felt strange to hear someone voice the actual words out loud. Szayel looked away, swallowing and turning his back, "Nnoitra was never much of a talker," his voice was small and it almost disgusted him. It reminded him of being really small, too small to have any real power or ability to voice his opinions.

When he was a little kid, he liked to be called Szayel Aporro – his first and middle name because it made him sound grand, better than his elder brother. Yylfordt was his complete opposite, he was loud and crass and stupid… he was a bully. When they were very small, Szayel adored him, until he started being cruel. He broke the tiara Szayel liked to wear as a child and teased him about it, he stole his glasses and told his friends that he had a little 'sister'. It made him so angry that he put laxatives in his food and cut holes in his clothes – that was before the days he mastered voodoo.

Voodoo was something he learnt from his mother's side of the family when he was fifteen – and hell, after that, Yylfordt had never known suffering like that. He deserved it of course.

His brother made him feel awful so he got revenge in his own twisted little ways… And to a similar sense, he'd done the same thing to Nnoitra.

Whether they voiced it aloud or not, Szayel had loved him. He'd loved Nnoitra more than he could put into words, it scared him, but the chaos about it was… beautiful. It was perfect and it made him unafraid to give himself completely to another man. The dark haired man made him happier than anyone else ever had and probably ever would.

When he found out Nnoitra had slept with Luppi, it destroyed him. That disgusting little skank had had his eye on Nnoitra for a while, Szayel had warned him and his lover blew it off like it was a joke. He tried to get him to go home with him that night, but Nnoitra wouldn't. He wanted to stay out drinking with the others, even though it was pretty much only him and Luppi left – he even had the drunkern golly to call Szayel 'obsessive, clingy, annoying'… It embarrassed him enough, but of course, it had to go five steps further.

Being told they'd slept together made him feel like the world had shifted out of his reach, that reality had dropped him off the egde. All of a sudden he'd lost control and he was back in that dark lonely place – God, he was so angry – so angry nothing would make him feel better! He wanted to tear off Luppi's fake little head! He wanted to burn them! He wanted Nnoitra to feel like his life wasn't worth living! The feeling was so utterly consuming he thought he'd gone mad. He wanted to be a wreck, he wanted to lose himself… all of the good feelings he'd felt for Nnoitra now all piled together inside only causing pain and misery.

It felt only natural to slip into insanity.

But that would mean Luppi and Nnoitra had beaten him. Everyone would look upon him and pity his lost resolve, his weakness. Szayel reached into himself and found strength he didn't know he had. There was enough of his being left to rip himself free of Nnoitra and look upon his former lover with hollow eyes. He tormented Luppi and Nnoitra in the same petty voodoo ways he tormented his brother. They suffered none life threatening effects.

There were times he'd long for Nnoitra again, but Szayel was unable to forget the pain that came after his lover betrayed him. He wasn't sure if he could deal with it again, he couldn't trust him not to make the same stupid mistake.

"Whether he was a talker or not, you knew that about him from the start," Tesla stepped in a little closer, "He misses you. Szayel-san, you know Nnoitra-sama is instinctive, and at this moment in time desperate," he lowered his voice, "If you make him believe he has hope, he'll keep trying to win you back."

It was true. He did give him false hope. Eyes meeting across the corridors, the sort of talk they had as lovers, the time they almost reconciled on an away business meeting… the odd brush of hands… last week Szayel had gotten as far as going back to Nnoitra's apartment after abducting Hirako Shinji. It was a mixture of giving him false hope to hurt him… and Szayel missing his lover, wanting to be close, then deciding it was too overwhelming and pulling himself from the situation.

They had talked after the kidnapping. Hirako Shinji was Aizen-sama's former lover, and from the way Luppi was rightly fired, it was clear that Aizen-sama still had feelings for him. It was strange how two people could… rekindle time and time again. He'd wanted to be close to Nnoitra again. The encounter was as rewarding as Szayel had hoped, talking to him made it seem almost like nothing had changed and no time had passed. Szayel had looked down and seen Nnoitra's hand on his knee, and his own brushing lightly against his arm. Their eyes had met for a second, only to be interrupted by loud knocking at the door.

The instant he heard Luppi's voice, Szayel decided enough was enough. If Nnoitra was the first person that sick twisted little fuck thought of when in a crisis, then something was obviously going on. Perhaps Nnoitra had been using him as a pity fuck since he found himself very bitter and single. Szayel had doubted since the STD scare he'd given them – hilarious – but still, Nnoitra had done stupider things.

Of course he'd stormed out and driven off like a maniac. He stopped by the mall and bought himself some flowers to make himself feel better, and had promptly arrived back at his apartment to find Nnoitra sat at his door, waiting for him.

"Nothing happened between me and him."

"I don't care about that."

Nnoitra stood up and took a step closer, trying to intimidate him into listening using his daunting height. It was a really irritating habit of his, something he once tried to assert over Tousen-san. "You do care, that's why you ran off on me. I sent him off anyway, beat up his creepy little face. I can't stand the sight of him since that one time, Szayel."

The look on his face said he was telling the truth, but the desperation in his voice said that if Szayel admitted to believing him, the taller man would think they were close to being back together.

"Again, I don't care."

His hands suddenly clasped onto his shoulders, Nnoitra lowered his head and snarled, "What do I need to do, damn it? If you wanted to wash your hands of me, you'd stop… looking at me like that!" he shook him hard, "If you want me to do something I'll do it. I'll put Luppi in intensive care if that's what you want. I can't fix us if you don't tell me what to do!"

Szayel smirked, brushing his hands off him and looking straight into his eyes, his gaze was malicious, his lips drawn into a mocking grin, "Beg me."

His eye turned to the floor. His shoulders slumped. Nnoitra swallowed and turned to the side a little as if trying to gather himself. His fisted hands were trembling slightly, biting his lower lip. Szayel couldn't tell whether it was due to frustration or rage.

Shortly after they broke up, Szayel told him to beg him and Nnoitra had told him he wouldn't. 'I'll never beg anyone for anything! I'm a man, Szayel, I have my pride.'

It was the one thing Szayel knew Nnoitra would never do. At the end of the day, love would come and go like the changing of the season –, one thing Nnoitra had kept constantly in his life was his pride. He'd never let go of his pride – not for anyone.

"I thought so," he pushed past him and turned the key to open his door when he heard the older man clear his throat.

"Please…"

It was one of those moments where the world seems to sit utterly still.

"Please," he raised his voice a little, "I'm… begging you to forgive me," he raised one of his shaking hands for him.

For a moment neither of them spoke. Szayel considered taking him in his arms and kissing him again and again as his heart swelled. He wanted their fighting to be over, to accept what had happened and move on with his lover. But then he realized this was the perfect opportunity to hurt Nnoitra more than he ever thought he could.

Szayel stood up on tiptoe, taking the taller man's cheek, stroking it gently with a serene smile on his face as he said, "You're pathetic. Get out of here."

Of course he could understand why Tesla was worried. Nnoitra was devastated because he put his heart on the line, not only that but he abandoned his precious masculine pride for a few moments, long enough to have his being trampled on. He could imagine what the other man would be like from the moment his eyes widened and appeared for a few moments utterly defenceless, before turning and walking swiftly away.

Szayel swallowed, turning back to look at Tesla, who was watching him with the same stern, concerned expression. It was nice to know that someone worried for the two of them… even if it felt a little patronising as the blonde was nearly ten years younger than them. He bit his lower lip, "Tesla, I appreciate your concern for Nnoitra and myself, but I have matters to attend too…" he turned to head towards Stark and Barragan – anything to distract him from this.

The blonde seemed to nod his head, accepting the other man's answer, before touching his shoulder and adding very gently, "You miss him too, Szayel-san. When he isn't looking, you can't take your eyes off him," Tesla turned to walk away, "You're punishing yourself as well."

In that… there was truth.

It was becoming a bit of an event now. All of the guests gathered around the table – which was easily as large as the one Byakuya and Rukia ate at together at home. The dark haired girl glanced up at the head of the grand table where the host would sit. At his right hand was Ichimaru Gin with Kira-kun beside him.

In all honesty, Rukia didn't think she'd ever seen Izuru looking happier. His pale cheeks were flushed and he had the most adorable nervous smile. The way the two of them sat together suggested they were holding hands. Renji would be furious – she wouldn't hold that against him. Whenever the subject of Ichimaru-Sensei and Kira-kun was brought up, anyone would assume that the older man, who was so… scary, was taking advantage of sweet shy Kira-kun. Anyone would assume that, until you saw them sat together, side by side, so in awe of each other, so adoring.

So, she just wouldn't mention this to Renji.

Rukia was sat between Hanataro (who was fidgeting) and her brother, half way down the table with Yoruichi-san opposite them with Soi Fon (who looked utterly uncomfortable) beside her.

On Aizen's left was Kaname Tousen with two empty seats next to him. Earlier that evening she had seen him stood with an incredibly tall hairy man, whom her brother introduced to her as Komamura Sajin, and a young boy who was introduced as their son, Wonderweiss. The seats must have been saved for them.

"Where do you think Tousen-san's guests are?" she whispered to Hanataro.

He turned to face her, whispering quietly, "The tall man… erm… Komamura-san carried the boy off… He started getting upset when he saw, erm… Ichimaru-Sensei."

Rukia chuckled a little at that. If she had been younger when she first clapped eyes on Ichimaru Gin, she'd probably have cried as well. She glanced across at Tousen-san again. He looked a little anxious, shifting in his seat and listening carefully in case his family was close to returning. It was nice to see a parent so concerned about their child.

On Hanataro's left, sat a very old man with the sourest expression she'd ever seen. Rukia recognized him as Barragan-san – a shareholder for Arrancar, he had attended many of her brother Byakuya's company parties. He had clashed with Byakuya once over his crude manners towards her brother's secretary, Nemu-san. Right now, the old man sat back in his chair as if he was a King upon a throne – giving Soi Fon the nastiest glare Rukia had ever seen.

She briefly remembered hearing something about Barragan-san attempting to court Yoruichi-san during the woman's early twenties. He bought her dresses and consistently offered to take her away to his private island cabin. It was something to do with wanting a beautiful fourth wife…

It was a well-known fact that Soi Fon would commonly take Yoruichi-san's more persistent suitors aside and rather rudely explain to them that they were not good enough for 'Yoruichi-sama'. Naturally, Soi Fon would claim that she only did this, as a humble servant of the Shihoin Family, protecting the traditions and assuring Yoruichi-sama wasn't bothered by inferior potential partners. But it sounded a little more like Soi Fon didn't want Yoruichi-san dating anyone.

Beside Barragan and currently the only person excitedly talking was the old man's partner of nine years, Charlotte Cuuhlhourne. He had a thick masculine frame with muscles as big as Ikkaku's… he also sported very long wavy violet hair and unfortunate facial features. He also appeared to be wearing a tight fitted backless white evening gown with high-heeled sandals and thick make-up, his bulging arms covered with elbow length white gloves.

Barragan was married to a drag queen.

A drag queen who was currently reaching across the table to clasp hands with Nanao Ise, "Darling! I cannot believe this is our first encounter! Lisa-chan simply raves about you!"

All of a sudden she recalled Yumichika's bitching at Matsumoto's Bar the other night… something about a 'loud mouthed fugly drag queen photographer' currently working with him at Vizard. He'd shown a photographer on his phone, Rukia hadn't seen it, because Ganju saw it first and made some stupid comment like 'Hey, pretty-boy, that'll be you in twenty years' – Yumichika had gone into a simmering rage and kicked out the chair from under his legs, followed by a stream of ugly based insults. It would be a pretty small world if this was the same person Yumichika described… after all how many… 'loud-mouthed fugly drag queen's' can there really be around Karakura town? Still… this person was a friend of Lisa-san…

Mayuri Kurotsuchi was back, taking a chair beside his wife. He was so awkward as he kissed her cheek, straightening up and giving anyone who might have been looking, a very dark look. He turned to talk to Ukitake-Sensei, probably about the procedure they went through…

Rukia had felt utterly relieved to see Ukitake-Sensei looking so healthy. She had made a bit of a spectacle of herself when Kyoraku-Sensei brought his lover to visit her and Byakuya at the manor. The instant she saw him she nearly burst into tears and ran to him. Now whenever she saw him, she felt embarrassed for getting so upset in front of everyone. Ukitake-Sensei was a kind man; he looked out for everyone and had been especially kind to her after the death of Kaien.

At the end of the table she noticed a few Arrancar employees. One of them she recognized as Stark – this was only because he was there at Uryu-kun's party and Orihime described him as 'ruggedly handsome', to which Rukia would agree. He had a bored expression, chatting to Kyoraku-Sensei, occasionally checking on the skinny platinum blonde haired girl beside him – who was currently cutting her napkin with her knife. Beside the little girl was a dark skinned blonde woman, so casually beautiful you'd expect to see her on the covers of fashion magazines. Rukia noticed the men at the table kept glancing at her.

Sentaro and Kiyone were bickering, as usual… they seemed to be fighting about who got to sit next to Ukitake-Sensei. It was like two children fighting sometimes, she had to wonder how they would cope as a married couple.

Komamura-san returned, his large hand enclosing a much smaller one as he gently led his son towards the table. Wonderweiss-kun was blond, with wide purple eyes, his shoulders hunched with a skinny gangly frame. It looked a little like he'd been crying. He must have been about eleven years old, but his demeanour was so young it was a little adorable.

Rukia sighed gently, she brushed her hair behind her ears before lowering her hand nervously under the table to meet Hanataro's. He flinched at first, then his eyes met hers, he went a little red as he hooked his fingers through hers.

Izuru couldn't help but feel a little guilty as he spotted Komamura-san quietly leading Wonderweiss-kun towards the table. After he and Gin reconciled – and Izuru stopped hiding his face in his shirt to hide his tears, they'd stopped in at the party. Unohana-Sensei quickly took Gin to one of the private rooms, something about a deal with Aizen-san.

It was painful for Izuru that Gin hadn't been eating or sleeping. All this time his own heart had ached for his lover. His parents had been furious, angrier with him than they had been for anything he'd done before. His aunt had cried and his uncle had said, a little gruffly, 'We'd be willing to accept this, Izuru, if it were your choice. You've just been manipulated and taken advantage of!'

They didn't understand – they didn't understand that he wasn't being manipulated; he was in love with Gin. Thank God they'd been too ashamed to take it further than the school. Izuru had cried miserably, he'd been going desperate with worry. Just to hear his lover's voice would have eased his pain, but they were so adamant about keeping them apart. It was like a wide ocean had been placed between them and there was no clear way to be back beside each other.

To be with Gin now, was like living in a dream. He didn't want to let go of his hand. And the relief he'd felt when Unohana-Sensei told them Gin was fine, just in need of a good meal and a good nights sleep.

On arriving at the living room the guests had gathered around, Gin and Unohana-Sensei when to speak with Aizen-san, so Izuru went over to greet Komamura-san, who introduced him to his son, Wonderweiss-kun, who made a small sound, hiding a little behind Tousen-san, clasping onto his sleeve.

It was a perfectly calm situation until Gin came back to him, wrapping his arms around his waist and peering over his shoulder. Wonderweiss-kun started making gabbled little noises and hid behind Tousen-san, shaking his head frantically.

"Wonderweiss," Komamura whispered softly, bending down to touch the boy's hand. "It is only Ichimaru-san, there is no need to be frightened whilst me and Kaname are here."

Izuru was about to gently say goodbye before the boy got any more upset, when Gin lent over his boyfriend, leaning down and calling quite playfully, "Yeah, it's only little ol' me."

Wonderweiss-kun became very distressed, making loud miserable yelps, trying to tug Tousen-san completely over to eclipse him from Gin.

Gin's teasing tone implied he was doing it on purpose… although the silver haired man did have an unfortunate talent for terrifying people. This poor boy would be unable to see that Gin was only playing.

It was then the servant at the door began calling the guests into the dining room to sit around that incredibly enormous table. Wonderweiss-kun was crying now, his big purple eyes wide and confused, hands shaking as he hugged his father, shaking his head. Tousen-san shot Gin a withering look before turning his back on them, to try and calm his son down.

"Kaname," Komamura-san lent down, getting on his knees, one of his hands on his partner's back, "You go inside. I'll take him out for some air." He reached out and scooped up the boy into his arms. Wonderweiss-kun wrapped himself into the embrace, sobbing into his father's shoulder.

Izuru couldn't help but feel relieved as the pair of them arrived at the table, Komamura-san sitting the boy in between him and Tousen-san. Wonderweiss-kun leant into Tousen-san's arm, seeming appeased and happy now. He shot Komamura-san a nervous smile, before he felt Gin squeezing his hand. He turned his head to look at his lover and felt his lips pressing against his own, Izuru raised a slightly trembling hand to stroke his face as the older man deepened the kiss.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to thank you all for coming."

Gin broke away from him, lowering his hand to stroke Izuru's arm gently, squeezing it very lightly, the pressure varying as if reminding himself his lover was with him. The two of them glanced up at Aizen-san as he entered the room. Sosuke Aizen-san was clearly one of those lucky men who looked wonderful in a suit – as much as Izuru adored Gin, when he wore his suited uniform to work, it often gave him the appearance of a gangster or a salesman. It was nice to see a man who looked so natural in completely formal wear.

"I apologize to have kept you all waiting," he nodded his head, taking his seat at the head of the table, "Dinner is actually served, so I hope everyone is hungry." Aizen-san had a very natural smile and way of speaking, Gin had once told him it was all for show… though it seemed very natural to Izuru.

Servants began gathering around the table, as the seats were assigned each person seemed to have a particular meal. This probably would have taken a lot of organising and background research. For example, Izuru remembered from first aid class, hearing that Hanataro-san was allergic to peanuts and wheat as well as being a vegetarian. When you were organising a dinner party you had to keep these things in mind, just in case you accidentally poisoned someone. He was pretty sure if you accidentally poisoned someone like Byakuya Kuchiki, you could be accused of an attempted assassination.

He reluctantly let go of Gin's hand to begin eating the soup that had been placed in front of him. It seemed to be a more Westernised meal ahead of them – the soup smelt delicious, though he couldn't distinguish the flavour from smell. Gin seemed to be having the same thing, though he was a little reluctant in tucking in. He was spending a long time buttering the bread on a side plate set between them.

The dinner party seemed to be really setting off, Aizen-san was speaking quietly to Tousen-san, leaning over a little to address Ukitake-Sensei. Izuru half followed the conversation, half tried to try and recognize the flavour of the soup. He glanced around the table, smiling nervously at Rukia-chan and Hanataro-san… Renji had told him a few days ago that the two of them were seeing each other, they looked sweet together. He always imagined whoever wanted to be with Rukia-chan would have a very hard time impressing her brother. Byakuya Kuchiki was a scary looking man, he had such a stern expression, though he was utterly brilliant in regards to the workings of his company.

"Sorry I'm late," called a loud voice from the entrance to the dining room.

Izuru looked up to see a very tall over-weight man in expensive clothing, taking off a pair of sunglasses. He recognized him a little as Ômaeda-san, who had once gone drinking with Hisagi-senpai.

Ômaeda-san waved a hand brightly as his gaze fell upon Yoruichi-san and her assistant, Soi Fon – whom Izuru had seen at Renji's place before. The Chinese woman was now sporting an expression similar to someone suffering from a kidney stone. The large man sat down beside Soi Fon, saying rather loudly, "Wow, Boss, you sure scrub up nice." To which Yoruichi-san began agreeing with him, "See, she does, thank you, Ômaeda."

"Oh yeah, Aizen-san," Ômaeda said brightly, leaning over the table to talk to Aizen-san, gesturing towards the door, "I helped one of your guests in, poor guy had the pass-code from the invite, but this one old guy of yours was adamant he wasn't allowed in the house."

For a moment, Izuru glanced at Aizen-san, a sort of confusion dancing over his eyes, before he clapped his hands together, "Oh, is that the case? Thank you for alerting me to that, Ômaeda-san." But then his attention was drawn to a skinny blonde with a bob cut heading inside the door, following Ômaeda into the dining room with a large teasing smile on his face, flashing a set of large straight teeth, "Well then, hey there, Sosuke," he glanced around the table, standing close to Aizen-san on Gin and Izuru's side of the table.

Izuru noticed Aizen-san looked a little surprised, glancing at the man, then at Gin, then at the servant who had come to the door behind the blonde, looking very anxious… Could this man perhaps be… a gatecrasher or something?

"Hirako-san," he said, his face drawn into a charming smile. Most of the guests were lost in their own conversations so only those close by would notice the traces of hostility in Aizen-san's voice, "However did you get past my security."

The blonde man, Hirako-san, took out his cell phone, turning to show Aizen-san what was obviously the password for the night, "Yer talkin' almost like yer unhappy t' see me."

Gin took this moment to squeeze Izuru's arm, "Come on, Izuru-kun, it's time for us to move down a seat."

There was an empty seat next to him, awkwardly Izuru moved to sit into it, Gin moving beside him, moving their dinner things and kissing his cheek as they settled, before grinning at Aizen-san teasingly, "Ya said I could invite a pal o' mine, didn't ya?" he chuckled, "Hirako-san, come sit next t' me and Aizen-san."

"Gin…" Tousen spoke up, glowering at the silver haired man, "It was foolish to invite him here."

"Well, Tousen-san, I forget what a sweet talker ya are," Hirako-san smirked, taking a sip of the glass of wine that had just been placed in front of him, "Mm, do ya know what a fella needs to do around here to get himself some okonomiyaki?" He tapped the table mockingly, before leaning back in his chair.

Izuru wasn't sure if he found this man incredibly crass and rude – particularly towards a powerful man like Aizen-san… or someone to envy as he was so… free and easy to use his words. Regardless, nobody really spoke to Aizen-san so casually, particularly calling him by his first name. He wondered if this person was… perhaps very familiar with Aizen-san? The look on the brunet man's face was impassive, so it was difficult to tell what they were to each other.

The dinner party was much less awkward than the one that had occurred with just Aizen's closest. Izuru spent most of it just looking at Gin out of the corner of his eye, already looking forward to the time they would spend together tonight… every now and then their elbows or knees would brush, and Izuru would be utterly consumed by the irrevocable love in his chest. He watched the other guests, his attention diverting from titbits of conversation – Wonderweiss-kun was eating what appeared to be potato pieces cut into the English alphabet. He was eating them after constructing them into sentences, looking completely puzzled as he organised them. Further down the table, Ômaeda-san was consuming everything in sight – Izuru was sure he'd seen him take something from the unsuspecting person next to him's plate. Ukitake-Sensei was talking to Hanataro-san, most likely trying to encourage him to speak. Izuru half wondered if the older boy was still interested in practicing medicine?

If you judged a dinner party by how enthusiastically people talked in it, Izuru would have to say this one was a success… He turned to glance over at Aizen-san to see what his verdict on his party was, only to see the older man was sitting in an incredibly tense position in his chair. One eyebrow quivered – he was functioning perfectly comfortably, but there was something… unusual about him? Izuru frowned a little, tilting his head to the side to subtly watch him. Perhaps Aizen-san was not feeling well and didn't want to show it very openly or voice it because of his guests? That was so very noble of him.

Gin's chuckle pulled him away from his subtle gazes. The laughter was dark, but soft, he nodded below the table and rolled his eyes. He frowned a little, following the direction of Gin's nod – he wondered what was going on… Izuru pretended to drop his fork, pushing back his chair to glance down. Gin's hand reached to hold onto his, he heard his lover whisper, "Izuru-kun, wait-!" before his eyes fell upon it.

Sometimes Izuru would truly believe himself to be all grown up, no longer the 'innocent one' in his group of friends. And then there were moments like this, where he wouldn't have the foggiest idea what Gin could be implying…

What he saw, was Aizen-san clasping onto the wrist of Hirako-san, as if trapped between pushing him away and keeping him there… as the blonde man pumped him hard and fast, taking his clothed member out of the security of his pants.

Izuru let out a squeak and nearly hit his head on the table as he attempted to recoil out of the eye line of such an intimate thing! Fancy doing something like that in a room full of people! He had to keep his gaze away from the top corner of the table – how… scandalous! Izuru briefly heard Gin whisper, 'Told ya so', before he felt his lover's arm slide around his shoulders.

He wondered how on earth Aizen-san would hide what he was doing when he reached completion… then decided he really didn't want to know… But then Hirako-san put both of his hands on the table, brushing against them with the serviette at his place mat, a slightly taunting smirk on his face as he turned to make conversation with Yoruichi-san. Izuru managed to glance back at Aizen-san, who suddenly looked surprised, then very embarrassed and annoyed, for the slightest moment, before he seemed to shift back into his ordinary reserved self. All of a sudden, Izuru realized the party had been manipulated into a secret cover for two men to get intimate with each other.

If it wasn't for Gin's arm around him, he wasn't sure he could have finished his dinner without blushing, or cringed when he saw Aizen-san practically dragging Hirako-san up the stairs with him after the other guests had left. Tousen-san rolled his eyes and muttered something about 'nostalgia' to Gin, before he left with his family.

Once they were alone, Izuru leant his head on his love's chest, closing his eyes, taking that moment to take in his smell, the feel of his arms around him. He felt thinner, he could feel his ribs against his shirt, but Izuru didn't mention it as he felt Gin take his chin again, kissing him deeply and passionately. He felt tears running down his face as they pulled apart, Gin's lips pressing against them one by one.

"I missed you," Izuru whispered, his voice slightly broken as he spoke.

"Me too…"

Nothing said romantic like sitting with your ex boyfriend in his office, in an awkward silence whilst he nursed his injured crotch with a bag of frozen peas – Sarugaki-san had thrown it at him when Kensei went limping around the offices. Shuhei held an ice pack against his face from where Madarame-san had hit him – the whole encounter had him a little shaken up. He was drawn between the relief of Kensei rushing to his side when he needed him – a reminder that he was loved… and the shame of everything that had occurred between them.

All of a sudden the silence was broken by Kensei's gruff utterance, "Why can't you just forgive me?"

His words were like thunder breaking through a silent night. Shuhei glanced over at his former lover, who was slumped in his chair, still clutching the frozen peas to his crotch, a hand in his short silver hair.

Shuhei swallowed, "I can't forgive you just because you want me too," he sighed finally, turning his gaze back to the floor. It felt so strange to be stood here like this, with nothing but a burning bridge between them.

In some ways, love was like a battle. If you just charged into it blindly you would get hurt. Only those who went in, knowing full well there are things to be afraid of of in a relationship – obstacles to climb – would be truly happy in the end. It was one of the first things he had leant from working with Tousen-san, the man was full of good advice. It showed here, right now, in this relic of a relationship. Shuhei had ran in blindly, claiming he knew fear, and look where that had led him: no home, a crappy car, bruises, and the humiliation of a scandal. And that wasn't even mentioning the heartbreak that came with losing your boyfriend.

Kensei looked up at him, exasperated, "You've been messing me around, Shuhei!"

His outburst was met with silence, and for a moment Shuhei wondered how he came to that conclusion. Did he assume he was leading him on when the younger man said nothing in response to his drunken guitar-playing stunt?

"I tried to win ya back – tried to get ya to see how much I need you – an' ya push me away every time I come near! But tha's bullshit, ya miss me! I know yer lookin' at my back every time I turn away. Don't ya dare deny it!" he glared at him, but there was a noticeable weakness in his voice, "Yer stayed workin' here with me… ain't even asked for a reference…" he swallowed, now looking up at him, their eyes meeting, "I'm not young like you are, Shu. I can't play this game. Tell me it's over for good, or take me back."

He felt guilt rush through his heart when he heard that exhausted sad tone, Shuhei swallowed, turning his back slightly – he was hurting Kensei being here. The older man wasn't over him, he'd rushed to defend him merely an hour ago. It was clear in his voice that he still loved him… But something inside Shuhei was tormenting him, making him so angry for being told he had to choose right now about the future of their coupling.

For the first time in a long time, he found his voice, his angry emotional voice, "Y-You threw me out of the apartment!" he broke out, his hands shaking, "You knew I had no-where to go! How do you think I felt just turning up at Izuru's all covered in bruises!"

Kensei's eyes narrowed, "You cheated on me, Shuhei, you're not completely blameless in all of this!"

The night Yumichika kissed him almost seemed like a distant memory now. So much had happened sine then, and to think all it took was one little lapse of self-control… Yumichika was beautiful, sexy… he had no inclination to jump back on that bandwagon, but you'd be a fool to say he wasn't… desirable. He'd been comforting him one minute, the next he was kissing him so passionately, that body pressing against him… It was like nothing had changed… he wanted him for a split second and a split second was all it took for guilt to consume him.

He'd been treated like some pervert who kissed his ex-boyfriend, Kensei had called him a slut and a whore over and over on the day they broke up… he even went as far as to imply Shuhei had slept with Renji.

"I kissed someone!" he snapped back, "And I think I've suffered enough for something that didn't go further than that!" his voice was indignant, full of agony, "I'd never sleep with anyone else. I was honest with you and you called me a whore and bruised me up!"

Kensei rolled his eyes angrily, "Oh it's just a kiss now, but just ya wait! Look at ya, Shuhei! Yer can do better than me! I deluded myself into thinking we had something… good – that it didn't matter that I'm nearly twenty years older than ya! But if yer kissin' other men, it means I was kiddin' myself after all, doesn't it? Doesn't it?!"

He didn't understand how Kensei could be so… insecure. Shuhei had always felt like he was the lucky one. He thought he was someone who really hit the jackpot to be with a guy as proud, sexy and strong-willed as Kensei. Their age difference had been an unspoken issue between them, but Shuhei saw it as quite low down on their relationship problems.

"He kissed me – it was a mistake, Kensei. You think I don't regret it? I don't even know how you can think that I could do better than you…" he lowered his voice, turning away, "How would things change if I took you back? Are you telling me the next time we had a fight you wouldn't use me kissing someone else as firepower? I'll never live doing that down, and you know it!"

Kensei was persistent, and often cruel when they fought. Once he lost his temper he didn't care how hurtful or damn right nasty he could be. Sure, he'd climb into bed beside him many hours later, wrap a muscled arm around Shuhei's waist and whisper, 'I'm sorry, baby' into his ear – but it didn't make it right. It didn't make it right at all. Shuhei didn't want to be reminded of this – this awful break-up every time they had a petty squabble. It wasn't fair.

"That's a load of shit," Kensei said after the longest pause, "People fight, Shu. Everyone fights, no matter how happy they are. Are you seriously telling me you won't get back with me because we'll fight?"

"No," he snarled indignantly, "One of the reasons I won't just come back is that every time we have a fight – over something stupid like work or me staying out – you'll make me feel I have to do what you want by bringing up me cheating on you!" he took a step towards him now, stood over where the older man sat, his cheeks were burning. "I'm not like you! I'd never use the fact that you fucking hit me just to score a few points!"

Suddenly Kensei seized the bag of frozen peas and threw them aside, he took Shuhei's face in both of his hands and kissed him deeply.

The kiss took him by surprise; it was so passionate and intense. His former lover's fingers buried in his hair, while his other hand reached down to hold onto his shirt tightly, deepening the kiss, tilting his head to the side. Shuhei closed his eyes, melting into his touch – deep inside of him; he knew he'd missed this. He missed the passion, the hunger to be touched and held and cherished. Most of all, he missed Kensei – he missed waking up every morning to that ruggedly handsome face, the way his eyebrows knitted into a frown while he slept… those big strong arms around him… from the evil way he smirked to the way he seemed to laugh with the whole of his body.

God, it had been so lonely without him. He hated depending on other people, everyone wanted to tell him that he was too good for Kensei – 'that man is disgusting for assaulting you that way' – 'where did he expect you to go?' – 'You're better off without him'… Nobody could really see that despite what happened, Shuhei was crazy about him… still.

Izuru's parents had told him that he was better off without Kensei. They were good people, though he couldn't say he agreed with the way they treated Izuru over the matter of his boyfriend – who'd have thought Renji would be right? Still, Shuhei couldn't help but feel a little hurt that Izuru hadn't told him. They'd always told each other that sort of thing… Still, it couldn't be helped now.

Shuhei hadn't wanted to inconvenience Izuru's family any longer, so he moved out after looking for a place to go and spending the night in a motel. He slept in his car another night – which was where his former bosses, Kaname Tousen and Sajin Komamura spotted him. He'd parked next to the video store; they had been returning movies for their son, Wonderweiss-kun, when they recognized his old car. It was one of the most humiliating moments of his life, Komamura-san tapping on his window as he struggled to balance his cheap coffee and his files from work. He'd shaved in a public bathroom and looked an utter state. The car stank and so did he – they both looked so concerned. Komamura-san wouldn't take no for an answer and now he was staying with them. It was a lovely home they had, and the two of them were both so kind – but now he felt like he couldn't accept Kensei again. What on earth would his old mentors think of him? If he went back to Kensei, would he become every bit the domestic abuse victim that story in the paper made him out to be?

Maybe that wasn't it… deep down; Shuhei knew he couldn't go back to Kensei because he was upset about being hit – of being called a whore. It made him utterly miserable. He'd been so in love and Kensei had made him completely miserable.

He broke away from him, a little breathless, his hands had reached up and clasped onto Kensei's shirt, holding him tight. Kensei panted softly, holding his chin between his forefinger and thumb.

"All I want is you," Kensei whispered suddenly, pressing his forehead against Shuhei's, "I love you. I'm so sorry."

He rested his head on his shoulder for a moment, listening to the beat of his heart, feeling the hands on his back. It was a comforting touch, it barely seemed like it could have been done with the same hands that marked him.

"I love you too," Shuhei said softly, "I love you so much… but I need… time to think," he kissed him chastely on the lips, "I'm sorry, Kensei. I can't give you an answer now," he took his hands and kissed the knuckles as he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Could it be… he was more confused than he was before today?


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

By Robin

Kaname closed the book on his lap and gave a soft sigh.

It seemed that sometimes being a father was a much harder profession that he had once believed it to be. He had always had an idealised vision of what being a parent meant, and – like so many adults – he had pictured himself as the most reasonable, rational child that had ever been born. His own parents had made things seem so easy, always knowing exactly how to treat him, discipline him and praise him, and his friends had always treated their own children with that same sense of 'knowing', and the love they had for their charges seemed almost infinite. They seemed to instinctively know when their children were faking tears, when they wanted a hug, or when they needed to be left alone. They seemed to make parenting seem easy. There was never a moment where they appeared to doubt themselves, and with each question their children posed them they could react immediately and appropriately each and every time. There was rarely an 'um' or an 'err', there was hardly a moment where they weren't sure how to react, and they always seemed to know just what to do in ever circumstance. Even that brute Zaraki had managed to raise an intelligent and adorable daughter, even if she was somewhat hyperactive, and Aizen had made his influence on Gin's life seem so easy. Even now Aizen seemed to instinctively know what it was Gin needed and seemed forever able to deliver it to him.

No one had told him, however, that their cool facades, instinctual abilities and infinite patience had all been an act . . . Parents merely acted a role, pretending to fully understand what it was their children needed most, and they were so good at the act that the children and childless adults never suspected. In fact each time Kaname made a choice regarding Wonderweiss he rarely felt confident. He always felt a keen sense of fear, even if he never showed it, wondering if what he was doing was truly for the best and what affect his choices would have on his son.

No one had warned him that he would not always know what to do, that he would never have a guarantee that his choices would work out right, or even that his patience would sometimes wear incredibly thin. No one had told him that they'd be moments he'd mess up and that it was okay to mess up, that it was natural, and that half the time the child wouldn't realise you'd screwed up anyways, because to the child you would always be right. Perhaps that was the root of his fear. He feared he may set a bad influence, he feared he may be a bad role model, and most of all he feared of being inconsistent and failing to set rules. No one had warned him of these things. The first night he had felt himself gritting his teeth at three a.m., unable to soothe a crying Wonderweiss, wishing that it were legal to simply drug the child or smother him into unconsciousness, he had been appalled at himself. He had felt sick to his stomach, wondering where his sense of justice had gone, until a quiet moment with Kuchiki-san and Unohana-san had eased his concerns. Kuchiki had confessed to the same feeling quite often, reassuring him that the very fact he hid his emotions and had the patience to still be there for his son was the sign of a good parent, meanwhile Unohana implied that it was very easy to put sleeping medicine into milk . . . and at that moment Kaname and Byakuya – having met Nemu's father also – understood a lot more about the girl and her current issues.

So it was that – despite being eleven in the evening – that Tousen did not feel as frustrated, as many inexperienced parents often were, at having to deal with a child unable to sleep. There was a slight stab of bitterness in his chest, and he would admit to feeling rather on edge, but after all these years he had came to realise that this did not mean he did not love his son, but rather he loved his son unconditionally, despite these things. It was this feeling of love that gave him the patience to simply sit without emotion, patiently and calmly, as he tried to rationalise what the best way to go about this was.

Wonderweiss had struggled with sleeping since he was a toddler. When a distant relative of Sajin's had passed away guardianship of Wonderweiss went straight to Sajin, who was slightly overwhelmed at abruptly being given a toddler to deal with, but that had been eight years ago now and Wonderweiss was eleven. They had expected their son to grow out of his mild insomnia, but as time passed he still had trouble sleeping at night and waking early each morning.

It was a blessing really that the young boy had came to such caring parents. Kaname and Sajin had adapted very well to Wonderweiss' needs, and instead of trying to change the boy or change their own routines to suit him – as many would have – they had taught him to cope instead. They had both agreed it would be unethical to try and change Wonderweiss, to try and make him adapt to society's standards, and likewise if they changed their own routines to suit him then the boy would fail to learn how to cope in society. It had taken time and more patience than they had imagined, but they had managed to teach Wonderweiss the coping mechanisms he needed to deal with his disorder. They knew he would never be 'cured', but they did not want him 'cured' because they loved him for who he was, and it was his differences that made him unique and human. They did, however, hold out hope that in a few more years he would be able to be a fully functional member of society, for his improvement had shown that he was capable of this and already he was very nearly the same as many other boys his age.

It was clear that Wonderweiss was still awake and alert. Kaname could hear his slightly heavy breathing, the pace suggesting he was still quite conscious, and occasionally there would be the soft sound of his blanket rustling against his clothing as the boy fidgeted and moved. Kaname smiled and reached out to touch his son's arm, but the boy merely flinched at the touch and moaned, before pulling away with the clear sound of blankets being pulled up before his moaning became muffled, the child hiding underneath them. He was tired, and perhaps still somewhat upset, because recently physical contact had not been so much of a problem, but no doubt by morning he would be content enough to allow Kaname to hug him.

Kaname smiled and stood up slowly. He placed the book on a shelf behind him, one that was exclusively for Braille books so that it would not be hard for him each bedtime to find a book he was able to read. Admittedly Wonderweiss' favourite book recently was Momotaro and Kaname had read the book so often he knew it by word, but Wonderweiss enjoyed running his fingers over the Braille and learning with Kaname how to read in the same way as his father . . . it was hard to imagine when a talent such as reading Braille would ever be useful to a child with sight, but it certainly would not hurt him to learn something new.

"I am going to bed now, Wonderweiss," Kaname said softly with a gentle smile. "If you do not feel tired you do not have to sleep, but you must stay in your room. You can watch television providing the sound is not loud enough to disturb anyone, and you may read or play games too, providing that you are quiet."

They'd learnt long ago that it was best to allow the small boy to tire himself out rather than needlessly fight him and try and force him to sleep. To Kaname's knowledge Zaraki had taken the same approach with his own daughter, knowing that it did more damage to fight a child on something rather trivial in the scheme of things, and better to merely allow the child to cope in their own individual ways instead. The only difference was that Kaname doubted Zaraki had to give such detailed instructions to Yachiru, however he knew that if he did not there would be errors later on. An example was once when Wonderweiss had been six or seven, Kaname had told him not to leave his room at all during the night, the young boy had of course obeyed but as a result had unfortunately wet the bed . . . and so Kaname had learnt to specify that it was okay to leave the room in that circumstance.

"If you need to use the bathroom you can do so," Kaname added, "and if you have a nightmare then you may wake myself or Sajin."

He was somewhat tempted to add on to the list that he was not to wake Hisagi-kun up in the morning again if the man overslept, or that he was allowed to go downstairs for water, but he was not allowed to play with Goro – Komamura's dog – but refrained from it. He knew that too much information would only confuse Wonderweiss. Instead he reached downward to the bed and placed his hand on the soft bundle of blankets that his son was hiding under. The material was soft and light, and Kaname could feel his son's spine underneath his index finger, indicating that he was indeed patting the boy's back. He smiled tiredly and turned to leave, careful to reach forward and move his wooden chair slightly so as not to trip on his way out, for it wouldn't do to disturb anyone more than necessary.

It made him jump when he stood back up, having moved the item in question, only to feel a small person diving at him from behind and wrapping their arms around his waist. He had barely time to register the sound of blankets moving before Wonderweiss had literally dived upon him, gripping him tightly, his heart was still pounding with an adrenaline rush of fear when he reached down and placed his hands over his son's. The boy's skin felt so warm and soft to his touch, and it was reassuring to know that he was so healthy and happy, even if he probably would not fall asleep until the wee hours of the morning.

The boy let out a low, moaning sound and nuzzled against Kaname's back, before letting out a small but audible declaration of: "Love you."

Kaname smiled warmly. It was moments like these where he realised the true joys of being a parent, knowing that there was nothing that could make his son any more perfect than he already was. He gently unhooked the boy's arms away from his waist and turned around, before he bent down on one knee and hugged the boy tightly to him, catching a faint scent of apple shampoo that his son liked so much.

"I love you too, Wonderweiss, but now it is time for bed."

"Okay."

Kaname stood up and allowed his hand to trail from Wonderweiss' back up onto his head, where he ruffled the boy's hair lightly. The boy then pulled away and Kaname could hear soft footsteps across the carpeted floor, faint but still there, before a slight almost hissing sound came as soft sheets were pulled a little off the mattress as Wonderweiss climbed into bed. Kaname waited a few seconds until he heard what sounded like blankets being pulled up, and a slither as what was presumably a book slid across the bedside table from beside his son's bed. There came a little thump noise as whatever had been lifted landed on the bed, and then Wonderweiss let out a little sound of awe and there came a sound of pages being turned. There was no need to turn on the lights, for he was willing to hazard a guess that the book would be in Braille, and besides that too much light would be a distraction from healthy sleeping.

He carefully walked his way outside into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him, but making sure to leave it open a few inches. Sajin would have left the hall light on for their son, and the little bit of light always reassured him, even if Kaname was unable to see it he knew it would be there. It was in a sense 'blind faith', but he believed in his husband enough to trust that he would have remembered to leave the light on. He smiled to himself as his hand left the handle of the door. The door handle had been warm to the touch, and he could faintly hear their bedroom door clicking closed. He wondered if a man with sight would have picked up both those subtle hints that someone had been eavesdropping at the door, but then decided that it didn't matter, it was enough to know Sajin had been there to share in his moment.

It took sixteen paces to reach their bedroom, although he slowed down upon the last few steps knowing that the bedroom door was close to the staircase. It was for convenience that they had chosen this spot for their room, it had meant that should Goro cry or bark downstairs they would be able to hear the dog, and should Wonderweiss go downstairs in the night they would hear him too.

At that moment all was quiet. The bathroom opposite the bedroom door was letting out a hot, moist steam and when Kaname touched the bedroom door handle it felt wet to the touch, signalling that someone had just exited the bathroom and not long entered the bedroom. It seemed then that Sajin had been to check on Wonderweiss after he had finished his shower, and after hearing Kaname saying goodnight to their son had retired to bed. It was oddly reassuring to know how protective his husband was, how much he adored his family that he felt a constant need to check upon them, and Kaname felt grateful for this trait, knowing that his past partners had not cared about him in the same way, certainly not enough to check upon him.

Downstairs there was the noise of Goro walking backwards and forth on the tiled floor of the kitchen, down the hallway he could hear Wonderweiss fidgeting as he sat in bed reading, and from the room opposite his son's he could hear faint music from Hisagi's room. It was nice somewhat to come home to an average sized home, full of the sounds of life, filled with a family. He could never understand how Aizen-sama enjoyed such a large but lifeless home, each night Tousen spent there he had always felt a part of his soul slipping away, but this was home.

"Is something the matter, Kaname?"

Kaname jerked his head upwards at the sound of his partner's voice. It was strange, but throughout all the years he could remember, only Sajin had ever been to take him off guard and surprise him in such a manner. He had never been able to sense the man's presence. When Sajin wanted to be he could still his breathing, move not one muscle, and he never wore strong scents or went too long without a shower, and so without sight he became nothing more than a ghost, a being with intelligence and soul but without a visible sign of existence. It was something he should have grown used to, but even after all these years it still took him by surprise.

His lover's voice was somewhat muffled, coming from a familiar distance on the other side of the door, and from the direction he was somewhat lower than Kaname was on this side of the door. Could it be that the other man had retired to bed already?

"I am sorry," he said softly, as he gently opened the bedroom door and then closed it behind him as he entered. "I was lost in thought. I did not sense that you were in bed, I am sorry if I disturbed you at all, Sajin."

"Not at all, Kaname. I was actually waiting for you to return."

"You were?"

He listened to the sounds of the room. There was little to tell him that anything was different about his surroundings, the only sound that was audible was the faint ticking of a clock that stood upon a windowsill, and in the distance the sound of cars driving down the residential streets. There was, however, a distinct scent of incense in the air, very subtle but quite noticeable, and it was drifting over from the direction of a bedside table. It was quite an alluring aroma, something unique with a hint of jasmine, and it was highly enjoyable and helped Kaname to relax somewhat. It had not been an easy evening to say the very least, and it was only now that he was in the sanctuary of his bedroom that he realised just how stressed he had been.

The party had been enjoyable for the most part, but Gin had – as usual – been somewhat of a nightmare. He had a cruel, sadistic sense of humour at the best of times, but with his recent troubles he had found his mean-spirited nature heightened, taking a ridiculous enjoyment out of everyone else's misfortunes. He had invited Shinji, much to Aizen's horror, in the hopes of irritating his father figure, and been quite annoyed when his plan backfired, and he had purposely caused tensions between Kurotsuchi and his daughter in hopes of distracting Unohana-sensei from his weight problems. After the meal some of the guests had stayed for drinks, despite Aizen's sudden disappearance with Hirako-san, but Wonderweiss had grown tired and so Kaname had taken the boy to his room in Aizen's residence to try and give him a quiet moment to calm down. It perhaps would have worked, but Gin – being Gin – had followed to see what he was up to, and as he entered Wonderweiss had reached out to stop Gin, trying in his own innocent way to protect his father from the man he strongly disliked. Gin had then called Wonderweiss creepy, and Kaname had defended his son by stating it was natural for pure beings to dislike the impure ones, and saying that any normal person would be leery of Gin. They then returned to the lounge where the rest of the guests had already gone, and Kaname had gone home with his family.

Unfortunately the damage had already been done . . . Wonderweiss had been upset at being called 'creepy', and even though they had tried to reassure him that Gin considered everyone 'creepy' including Kurosaki-kun, the young boy could not understand this reasoning and took the insult to heart. Kaname was sure that the reason Wonderweiss was struggling to sleep stemmed from Gin's offhand insult, the younger boy was prone to replaying things in his mind, prone to fixating on things that upset him. It frustrated him, but there was little to be done about it now. Sajin and himself would have to repair the damage slowly over the next few days.

"Yes, I saw you were uncomfortable at the party. You were worried about Gin, about Hisagi, and for our son. That is a lot of stress for one man to bear, and I wondered if perhaps you wanted to discuss matters, so that I may help you bear that load."

Kaname kept his face impassive, except for a subtle hint of a sad smile upon his lips. Whilst he was grateful for his husband to be so loving and supportive it felt wrong to trouble him with trivial worries, and he could not bear to share his troubles with his lover, the guilt would eat away at him if he did. Sajin had troubles of his own, issues from his own past, and it would not be right to burden the man further with unnecessary things.

He walked slowly over to the dresser and began to undress down to his underwear, carefully folding each item of clothing as he went and placing it on top of the dresser. He couldn't hear anything from Sajin, who had infinite patience and was perhaps merely waiting for his husband to respond to him, it was possible he was watching Kaname but that did not feel to be the case. It was almost like something was in the air, a feeling of tension and unspoken words, and although his husband no doubt enjoyed his body he was not watching him tonight, but waiting for him, waiting for him to open his heart and tell him of his troubles. He lowered his head with a sad expression, his lips pulling in a sorrowful smile that faded into a frown, his hands finding purchase on the corner of his shirt, he was distracting himself by smoothing the soft silk and the action in itself was meaningless. Sajin was still expecting an answer, even if he gave no audible indication of this.

In slow movements Kaname gracefully walked to the bed and lifted the covers upon the corner, he climbed in and felt against his leg Sajin's bare one, his skin was almost hot against his own and the coarse hairs that covered him scratched familiarly against him. It seemed that his husband had gone to bed without wearing any nightclothes, which was unusual considering that both Wonderweiss and Hisagi were home, usually wearing nothing was a nuisance to Sajin who disliked having to redress each time he needed to use the bathroom or open a window.

The soft sheets beneath him were cool against his body, and the covers on him were somewhat heavy and the thick padding was sure to protect him against the cold night. He attempted to ignore Sajin, hoping that the room was dark and that his lover could not see or analyse his expression, and instead lay down upon his back, his head hitting the large, soft feather pillows and automatically relaxing into them. He removed his opaque glasses and placed them beside him on a beside table, noting how they hit a solid object that made a scraping noise as it moved, and how the scent of incense became just a little heavier. When he rolled back onto his back Sajin moved so that he was on his side, facing Kaname, and placed his right hand on Tousen's left side so that he was poised over the top of his lover, looking down upon him. The dip in the bed made the blind man sink slightly, but instead of feeling vulnerable he felt safe, protected, because he knew that Sajin would never harm him.

He reached up and touched Sajin's face gently with his hand, and his lover nuzzled into him, enjoying the soft caress. Kaname smiled, unsure if whether Sajin would see his smile or not, then withdrew his hand, sliding it down Sajin's neck then along his arm, so that his own elbow rested upon the bed and he was able to hold onto his lover's arm, anchoring himself in reality.

"Kaname," Sajin whispered, "I hope you know that you will always be my friend, as well as my lover. I once swore that if something sad happened in your life, I would be there for you. If something happy happened in my life, I would share it with you. If you strayed from the path of justice, I would admonish you. If you committed an error, I would forgive you. If you found yourself in a predicament, I would provide a foundation on which you could stand. All in order to make the man that had lost his love for the world be able to love the world once more."

He leant down and placed a soft chaste kiss on his lover's mouth, their lips parting for a brief second making it all the more sensual and romantic. Kaname sighed as they parted and licked his lips, the taste of his lover lingering upon them . . .

"Don't deny me a place by your side, Kaname," he continued. "If you need me, you only need to say."

"I need you, Sajin."

Kaname lifted his arms slowly. His hands traced over the solid muscles of his lover, feeling each twitch and quiver in them – no matter how subtle – as his fingers ghosted over bare flesh, combing through thick hair and enjoying the touch.

He always adored Sajin's body, it was so unique and so masculine, and he was always able to 'see' his lover through his sense of touch in a way much clearer than any of his past lovers. He knew that the man worked out regularly, that he was quite hairy but not excessively so in Kaname's opinion, that he had deep-set eyes and prominent facial features, and skin that was silky smooth to the touch. His lover was one of a kind but certainly handsome, perhaps not in a conventional sense but he was still undeniably attractive, and Kaname loved having something to touch and feel, something to overwhelm his senses each time they made love. Gin's body had been far too plain for his liking, and the feel of bones and ribs was less than attractive, and Sosuke could never hope to respond in the same was as Sajin, always too fearful of losing control over himself. Sajin however was perfect, and the deep sounds he made during sex always so wonderfully erotic, so possessive and primal. How his husband could have such low self-worth puzzled him, because Kaname truly couldn't see why his body would be imperfect. Sajin was his everything.

He wrapped his arms around Sajin's neck and pulled him closer. The larger man was forced to brace his weight as he was pulled directly over his lover, his forearms resting either side of him, his face inches from Kaname's. The way Kaname's hand played with the hair at the base of his neck, the other tracing patterns on his back, felt so intimate and personal, it made him feel love, it made him forget everything about the world and feel special, beautiful. How was it that only Kaname ever made him feel that way?

"If we may," Kaname carefully pulled the other man down on top of him, so that he could feel the full warmth of his lover, and so that he could whisper into his ear, "I would rather discuss my worries with you in the morning. Tonight I want only you."

"Kaname . . ."

It was hard to hide the smile upon his lips, and he was unsure whether the lights had been left on or not, and so it was entirely possible that Sajin could see his smile, that he could see the way his eyes crinkled and his cheeks warmed, that he could see in that one expression just how much Kaname loved him.

He buried his hand into Sajin's luscious hair and turned the other man's face to his own, and gasped as he began to feel those plump lips gently press against his cheek, giving him soft and continuous pecking kisses. Then with an almost unexpected gesture Sajin's lips pressed against his own, it was an almost chaste kiss, one that barely parted their lips, one that only hinted at things to come, and then as soon as Sajin pulled away he was back. He repeated this one or two more times, then moved in for a deep, passionate kiss, one that left Kaname breathless and overwhelmed. He found his body arching into Sajin's, his legs parting as he lifted them higher, wrapping his left leg around his lover so that his foot rubbed against his buttock and pulled him closer, their groins rubbing directly against one another. Kaname threw back his head and hissed as he bit his lip, trying to hold back a heavier moan. When Sajin deliberately thrust against him he was sure he would be unable to hold back, that he would cry aloud, but then Sajin swallowed his mouth with his own and muffled the sound with a wet, clumsy kiss.

When Sajin pulled back he smiled warmly, and then changed the tone of his voice into one of softness and patience, knowing his lover would be unable to see his pleased expression: "It seems you really do want me, Kaname, but if you want me you'll have to keep the noise down. It wouldn't do for Wonderweiss or Hisagi-kun to hear us."

"Of course," he replied breathlessly, "but it is a shame, for you do make the most wonderful sounds yourself, and besides . . . I have plans that will really make you want to scream."

Sajin laughed and looked down at his lover's lust filled expression. Kaname's eyes were closed in concentration, a habit he was prone to despite his lack of sight, and his lips were plumped and swollen with their kisses, wet with saliva and panting in exertion as he tried to hold back from frotting against Sajin. He had no doubt that he would be screaming indeed if Kaname had his way, and indeed each time he was inside his lover it was often hard to keep control, to keep from screaming aloud in ecstasy. Kaname was simply perfect in everything he did.

"Really?" he whispered back. "We shall soon see about that . . ."

Shinji gave an almost devilish smirk as he watched Aizen wince.

It wasn't like the brunet to show any emotion, let alone to give a display of weakness, and yet there it was! It was subtle, he'd give him that, but it was still there nonetheless. The slight flinching of his eyelids, the way his lips gave a tiny twitch, and the way his brown eyes shook almost imperceptibly as he tried hard to gaze upon his blond lover . . . all of it gave him away as being nervous and somewhat in pain. It was possible with Aizen that even this was an act, that even these little responses were feigned to get the reaction from Shinji that he wanted, but who honestly cared?

Aizen wanted him. He wanted Shinji. It had been obvious from the moment at the party, where Shinji's hand had touched Aizen in a way so intimately and passionately that the man's self-control had really been pushed to the limit. Sure, they'd touched each other like that when they'd unofficially dated, and now they were an item again they'd touched each other all the more, but to take such risks, to touch each other in a room filled to the brim with friends and family . . . they hadn't done that in years. There'd been a time in there relationship where they'd taken risks, where they'd do the craziest things in the most wildest of places, sometimes getting caught by the people they least wanted to see them, including Gin and Hiyori, but that had been all a part of the fun: the risk. They may be an item again, they may still hate each other as much as they lusted for one another, but that had been the first time in years in which they'd taken such a risk and done something so scandalous in such a public place. Shinji knew full damned well that Gin and Kira had saw them, and Yoruichi had noticed judging by her giggling and texting what had to be Kisuke, and Kaname's not-so-subtle coughs and glares meant he'd noticed too, but what had they to feel embarrassed about, really? Hell, Shinji knew full well that those guys got up to just as much, although perhaps not as bad, so it wasn't as if they could judge him now, was it? They were probably just jealous, that was it. Heh, he couldn't say he blamed them.

The moment the dinner had ended Aizen had dragged Shinji upstairs. The blond couldn't stop smiling every step of the way. Everyone knew it was etiquette for there to be drinks and small talk after those stuffy meals, and for the host to leave was just the height of rudeness. He didn't doubt that Tousen and Gin had been left to entertain and then say goodbye to the guests, and the very fact that he could cause that reaction in Aizen, that he could make the man lose that stupid mask of self-control, it just made him smile like a buffoon. He loved it. He loved knowing that he could still get a rise out of Aizen – figuratively and literally – after all these years.

Currently he had Aizen pressed hard against the man's bedroom wall. He had the man's wrists tightly in his left hand, making sure to keep them high above Aizen's head out of the way, and his right hand was currently stroking the brunet's member. The moment he had Aizen pinned he had ripped the belt from the other man's waist and pulled his trousers and undergarments downwards, forcing them to the floor around his ankles, leaving his lover completely exposed from the waist down. Aizen had barely responded. He'd let Shinji move and guide his body how he wanted, giving the blond complete control. His only facial recognition was the hazed look in his eyes, his half-lidded stare that could have been lust, fury or even both, and the soft way his lips parted as he licked them subtly with soft pants escaping them. He looked a sight indeed and Shinji wanted to savour him. He wanted to take his time making him beg, making him scream, and making him writhe . . .

Aizen truly looked delightful.

His upper body was still covered by his now crumpled and open shirt, jacket and loosened tie, and his lower body was completely naked, he looked like something from a porno movie, like a man on the verge of being ravished. His brown hair was loose with that one lock framing his face elegantly, and although his pupils were wide in lust his eyes were almost closed, it gave him a sultry look, an almost come hither appearance. Everything about him exuded a sense of sex, from the way his chest rose up and down heavily in anticipation, from the way his back arched almost professionally as Shinji pumped him, and the way he somehow managed to keep control of his noises, his voice barely audible but his panting breath like thunder. His skin was pale to look at, but his chest and cheeks had already begun to flush with arousal, and each time Shinji looked up at him he'd look back down with that lustful expression of need, his eyes full of passion and power, his lips locked in a soft smirk. Just by looking you'd never have known he was willing to give his body up to someone else, he looked so . . . dominant. Even when he was about to get fucked against the wall he looked every bit in charge, as if he wasn't fazed in the least, and Goddamn if that wasn't a huge turn-on!

Shinji licked his lips and let go of Aizen's wrists to reach down to his own member. He quickly undid his trousers and pulled out his erect length, allowing it to stand up to attention, he then let go of the brunet entirely before grabbing his waist and throwing him down hard against the bed. There was barely a flicker of surprise on Aizen's features, but the moment he fell he simply pulled himself upwards so that he was fully on its surface, head resting against a pillow, then divulged himself of his shirt and jacket, throwing them haphazardly onto the floor, whilst leaving his tie on.

"I hope you enjoy this, Shinji," he whispered through eyes filled with passive fury, "because, after your rather inappropriate stunt, this will be the last time I allow you to fill me for a very long time."

"Yeah, whatever," Shinji scoffed. "We'll see about that."

The blond man swiftly undid his trousers and dropped them to the floor, then climbed onto the bed and crawled over Sosuke. It made him wish that he still had the long hair that he used to, so that he'd be able trail it over his lover's body and torture him with the sensations he knew he loved, and – just for that pleasure – perhaps he'd grow it again, once more.

He reached under the far side of the enormous bed and underneath a feathered pillow, fishing around for the objects he knew he'd concealed there. Sosuke was a man of habit after all, and he'd only ever sleep on the far left side of the bed, despite the fact the bed could easily hold around five people comfortably (which he'd unfortunately found out one night when Gin was a lot younger. The creepy brat and Hiyori had decided they'd wanted a 'sleepover' and dragged along Kisuke too, all in order to torture Shinji and stop him from getting any). It was because of this – and the fact he always carefully made his side of the bed each day, not leaving it to the staff – that Aizen hadn't yet discovered Shinji's secret stash. It only took Shinji a few seconds to find the bottle of scented lubricant and flavoured condom that he'd left behind and pull them over towards him.

"Oh my," Sosuke murmured with an omnipotent smile and a patronising gaze. His tone was light, mocking and a little too cheerful. "I wonder how long my thoughtful sensei has stashed those there? Do you really think we'll have a need for them, Hirako-sensei?"

Shinji swallowed hard at hearing 'sensei' on Aizen's lips, especially when it had been said in such a throaty, innocent manner. It reminded him of the first time they'd slept together, when Sosuke had been so hesitant and nervous, and how Shinji for so long afterwards still was left struggling to work out if it was part of an act or a genuine feeling of anxiety. Still, who didn't like the idea of being a big, bad sensei with the struggling, naked pupil beneath them, oh so naughty and oh so asking to be taken? Oh, and Aizen was so asking for it after the hell he'd put him through the last few days, he was just asking for it, and Shinji was more than happy to answer him.

"You really do like the sound o' your own voice, don't ya, Sosuke?"

Aizen merely smiled in response. It was creepy how even when Shinji could be towering over him, ready to penetrate him, that the guy still had that infuriating 'I so totally own you smirk' on his lips, it really made Shinji just want to pound him until he was no longer able to smirk. He really needed to teach Aizen a lesson, and even if he knew – deep down – he'd never be able to, he'd still happily settle for the illusion of being in control.

He reached out for the condom and tore open the packet with his teeth, glaring daggers at Aizen who was almost pouting his lips with that devilish smile of his, gazing back up at Shinji with infinite patience. The way he raised his arms seductively, draping them over his head with his hands clutching the headboard, his legs spreading slowly and erotically so as to let Shinji settle down in between them, it was all so contrived and orchestrated and yet somehow – for whatever reason – it also seemed so natural too, so real. It was really as if Aizen was giving up control, but if he was it was still because he chose to give that control up, because he chose to let Shinji take him, and that would never quite be enough for the blond. He wanted Aizen to break underneath him, to own him for just one minute, and yet the frustration that he would never have that aggravated him.

Aizen was still smiling up at him when as he pulled on the condom and coated his length with lubrication, the blasted look on his face only served to piss Shinji off all the more. He smiled a smile of his own, showing a row of pearly white teeth, then reached down for the tie Aizen still wore and pulled harshly at it, forcing Aizen to lift his head or else choke. There was a faint gasp from the brunet but nothing else, and so Shinji dropped his hold and smiled menacingly down at Aizen, before lowering his mouth towards the other's neck.

It was almost eerie how Aizen refused to move, how he kept insanely still aside from the odd writhing movements of pleasure, as if he was deliberately leaving everything in Shinji's hands. It just made Shinji want to hurt him and please him all the more, force Aizen to feel in order to force him to react, and maybe that's what the brunet wanted, maybe he wanted Shinji to take control and be forceful with him, but Shinji didn't care, he just wanted some kind of damn reaction!

Shinji reached down and hooked his arms underneath Aizen's legs, pulling them upwards to expose Aizen's waiting hole to him, then positioned himself so that his head teased against his lover's entrance, hinting at things to come without actually deigning to give him. Meanwhile he leant down so that his mouth brushed against the brunet's neck and began to bite a little too harshly, causing Aizen to lose some control and grip onto Shinji's shoulders for some support. Shinji smiled to himself as he licked, kissed and bit at the pale column of skin, relishing in the soft gasps that Aizen let out, enjoying how his many love-bites could actually affect Aizen in a way the man probably wouldn't approve of. The sounds were delicious, little gasps and groans that were barely there but oh so obvious, along with tiny rhythmic thrusts upwards that pushed his hard, weeping member against Shinji's abdomen, coating his skin with pre-come and causing Shinji to hiss outwards in arousal.

He braced his weight on his arm as he continued to suck and kiss at Aizen's neck, then with his other hand he moved slowly upwards to play with his lover's nipple, pulling and stroking in order to tease Sosuke past the point of endurance. When he looked up for a second to see the brunet's expression fade into one of please, his self-control fading away, it was when he decided to take things further.

It only took the minimum of effort to slide deep inside Aizen. They were intimate so often now that it barely took any preparation for either of them to be ready, and yet the feeling of Aizen around him still managed to take his breath away. There was something to be said for being taken and for taking, and as much as he enjoyed the feeling of Sosuke deep inside him it could never compare to being buried to the hilt inside his lover. The knowledge that no one else had ever been inside Aizen was enough on its own to make the pleasure so much more intense, bringing out a possessive side that Shinji embraced, but the physical sensations were almost overpowering in their intensity. Aizen was like a perfect fit, just tight enough so that Shinji had to use every ounce of self-control not to pound into him then and there, but soft enough that there was no discomfort whatsoever and an easy ride in and out of Sosuke. He could already feel a faint sweat breaking over his forehead.

He managed to keep his left arm hooked beneath Aizen's leg, bracing his weight on the same arm, so that his lover was half-bent upon his side, giving Shinji easy access to his passage. Their lips were pressed together although neither had the strength or energy to kiss, each one panting out hard so that their breaths merged as one, and that they could feel the intimacy of the gesture without deepening it.

When Aizen instinctually flexed his inner muscles around Shinji the blond cried out, and unable to keep his control began pounding hard against Sosuke in a brutal rhythm. His lover cried out loudly as Shinji thrust hard against him, aiming for the spot that he had memorised over time, relishing the feel of Sosuke wrapping his other leg around him and pulling him deeper, his hands clenching and unclenching around Shinji's neck, desperate for a purchase that they couldn't seem to find. Every few moments Shinji had to stop to catch his breath, his heart pounding so fast and hard that he feared he might pass out should he carry on, and Aizen's facial expressions were almost too much to bear. The man had nearly lost all self-control. His eyes were clenched shut tight, his mouth open just enough for breath but contorting into the most beautiful of shapes, and his smile had officially been wiped away.

Shinji sped up as much as the position enabled him. He could hear the slurping sound of the lubricant each time he thrust in and out, the heavy slapping of his balls against his lover's buttocks, and the headboard knocking heavily against the thin walls of the bedroom. His own voice was growing louder and louder, and beneath him Aizen's every muscle was growing tense and hard, and the moment Shinji lowered his hand to touch Sosuke's weeping member the brunet nearly exploded.

Aizen was firm and hard in his hand, the skin soft but wet with natural lubricant, and as Shinji pumped in time with his hard, ramming thrusts the man underneath him squirmed and keened. It took barely three pumps before Aizen moaned quietly, throwing his head back so that Shinji's lips were now sucking upon his Adam's apple, and his body gave a full shudder. The thick ropes of come soon coated Shinji's shirt, his hand now hot and wet as trickles ran down his digits, and beneath him he could see long, white lines covering Aizen's pale skin right up to his collarbone. His insides clenched hard and fast, flickering with the pleasure he felt so that Shinji was forced to scream aloud, filling the condom instantly and howling his release as he came harder than he had for a long time. His heart felt ready to burst as he choked on the air, his body hot and aching, sweat dripping down his forehead and sticking his hair to his skin, and his body flushed red with exertion. He winced as he pulled out and collapsed on the bed next to Sosuke, kicking aside the bottle of lubricant as he did so.

"Fuck, Sosuke," he murmured, licking his lips. "Yer sure ya wanna give that up just 'cause yer pissed at me?"

He looked at his lover who merely smiled in a rather sadistic way before rolling over onto his side, he reached out for a tissue on his bedside table and began to wipe away the mess on his stomach. Shinji simply rolled his eyes as he pulled off the condom and wiped himself with the tissue once Sosuke was done, if he was lucky the bastard lawyer would be up for another round before the night was done.

He was ready to ask when he began to hear a slow, rhythmic pounding noise, strangely sexual, almost like someone was being banged against a desk or a wall, kind of like what they'd been up to with the headboard going in a steady beat. Whatever it was making the noise was bloody annoying and ruined the moment. It made him groan and cover his ears as he simply rolled his eyes with a frown.

"What the hell is that, Sosuke?"

"I believe," Aizen replied, as he stood up slowly and began to pick up the clothes around the bed and fold them carefully, "that is Gin with his boyfriend. I am afraid his room is next to mine. When he was a child this was most convenient, but now that he is older I am afraid it leaves me open to hearing the most unfortunate noises."

"Don't he know 'bout the cameras?"

"Of course, but he also has the passwords to delete the tapes when he is done."

Shinji groaned again and tried to block out the noises. It was fucking creepy to hear that silver-haired, fox-faced freak banging away at his boyfriend in the room next door, and even more annoying that now Aizen had headed into the en suite to run himself a shower. Didn't that guy have any sense of romance? Didn't he care that Shinji was lying on the bed just waiting for another go? Most of all, wasn't he going to do something about Ichimaru ruining their time together?

"Yo, he ain't a kid no more, Sosuke, why don't ya make him move rooms?"

"I am afraid Gin is like a son to me, Shinji," Aizen called out from the bathroom. "He has had a room here since he was a child, and until he finds another job and an apartment he will be living here. I will not make a son of mine move solely to make the life of a Vizard easier. This is his home."

"Tch, you make it sound like you love him more or something . . ."

Aizen leaned out from around the door with a rather penetrating gaze, "Precisely."

It was then the bathroom door slammed shut and Shinji was stuck listening to 'ah, Gin, p-please don't tease me!' and 'I love ya, Izuru-kun!' as the banging against the wall continued, and the noise of the shower echoed around the room. Shinji was literally shaking with rage. He hadn't exactly expected to go from mortal enemies to madly in love, but he had expected to be treated with a little respect and to be more than just a fuck-toy to Aizen. Hell, shouldn't his feelings count for something? Why couldn't he demand Gin move rooms, didn't he have a right? Oh, and if Aizen loved Gin so much more then why didn't he just fuck him instead? Yeah, that'd go down oh so well . . . Bastard.

"Yeah?" Shinji shouted loudly, marching around the room to quickly redress, hoping to God that the come on his shirt wouldn't stain. "Well – then I'm – I'll –!" Shit, he had no power here at all, and what could he say to irk Aizen into a response? "Well, in that case I'm going t' spend the night at Kisuke's! Yeah! You want someone to fuck, then go fuck yourself!"

"Very well, please be quiet on your way out."

That damned, two-faced, cold-hearted -! Fine, if he wanted it that way then so be it, he'd go crash the night at Kisuke's and Aizen would be all horny with no one to fuck, and then he'd be sorry! Then Shinji would be the one to have all the power and he could laugh at Sosuke for once! The problem was he knew it wouldn't work, in a few days he'd be back at square one and in Aizen's arms and -! That damned man would win, he'd bloody well win, and it wasn't fair! It wasn't!

Shinji screamed loudly and slammed the bedroom door as loud as he could.

"Fuck you, Sosuke!"

He was sure he could hear Gin laughing from close by . . .

There was something about Muguruma-san's voice that Kaname strongly disliked.

It sounded to Kaname's ears rather . . . common. That was not a word that he liked to use, for it had highly negative and judgemental connotations. It also seemed to imply that the subject in question was somewhat dense, uneducated and rather abrupt in manner, and this was not always the case. It was well known that he himself had not had the best of upbringings, and Gin was also often considered 'common' by some of the upper class for his accent. It frustrated Kaname for Gin's accent was something that was outside of his control and certainly did not define him as a person, and Gin – despite how he may speak – was highly intelligent, infinitely patient, and one of the most educated people he had met. To Kaname it was indeed a word he disliked, but yet it somehow seemed to describe the man in front of him perfectly, as if Muguruma was in itself synonymous with 'common'.

The way the man spoke grated on Kaname's every nerve. It was the voice of men like Zaraki, something gruff and heavy with a strong edge, almost as if with every word he was daring you to argue back, to take offence, as if the whole world was out to get him and he felt compelled to be always on edge. However men like Zaraki did – he was reluctant to admit – hold something back, they had standards and limits, they would not attack those weaker than them or those who could not fight back, but this man did not seem to have those same values.

Even if Kaname had not heard on the news that Muguruma-san had beaten his friend and protégé, he still would have known what kind of man he was dealing with. Every single sentence was sharp, hard and staccato, and only lengthened on certain phrases as if implicitly saying 'you got a problem with that, buddy?' The way he drawled his words when thinking implied a man of slow intelligence and, likewise, the way he reacted so quickly to provocation showed a man quick to anger. That was a very bad combination. Kaname had to wonder why Hisagi had not listened to his advice. He was sure he had drilled into the younger man that the path of justice should be free of bloodshed, that violence was never the answer and should be the last resort of a desperate man. Why he had dated a man so angry was beyond comprehension, it was almost terrifying how in every single word this man seemed to add a hint of hostility, and Kaname was forced to wonder why this man could be so angry, what had the world done to him?

The other man would not have been sitting in his home were it not for the fact that Kaname had a great respect for Hisagi. Although they had not been in contact since he had joined with Arrancar, and Hisagi had joined the Vizard, Kaname was adamant on keeping in touch from now on.

When he had left he had envisioned the younger man to be confident, assertive and able to cope on his own without the constant supervision of his mentor, and yet . . . it seemed as if Kaname had failed him. Perhaps he did not have the support base that Kaname had believed him to have, or perhaps he was not as self-assured as he seemed, or maybe he felt betrayed by Kaname's departure and turned to the first pair of open arms, but regardless the fact remained that he had needed Kaname and he had not been there for him, he had not supported him. He would not make that mistake again. He would support Hisagi with every ounce of strength he had, and he would be there for the man no matter what, he would not leave him again. He had acted unjustly in the past, neglecting his friend, but this time it would be different, he would defend Hisagi as if he were his own flesh and blood, and he would make up for his past errors in whatever way he could. He would not fail Hisagi again.

Hisagi had already left the house by the time Muguruma-san had arrived. Kaname had recommended that he take a day off from work to spend with friends, and to his knowledge Matsumoto-san had arranged for a group of friends to meet at her bar for a private get-together. It had sounded highly enjoyable when Hisagi discussed it with him. Kira, Abarai and Kurosaki would be there, and a few other names that were only vaguely familiar to Kaname, but there would be alcohol and music, and it would be a wonderful distraction from this incident with the brute Muguruma. So when he had been asked where Hisagi was Kaname had claimed to not know and invited the man inside to wait instead.

It had involved some highly irritating small talk whilst Muguruma-san decided the layout of the house was unacceptable. Instead of sitting patiently cross-legged in the living room he had pulled up the couch to a strange angle by the breakfast bar, and – sitting on the back with his feet on the arm – decided to talk to Kaname from over the bar instead. The house was not small, but it certainly wasn't as large as the Western houses Muguruma-san was used to, and so by moving the couch it had caused Kaname significant difficulty in going about his chores. He had bumped into his guest twice and had to rely on his hands a few times to work out where the sofa had shifted, and it wasn't until Muguruma had explained his actions that Kaname understood. It had been made all the more frustrating by how the other man had a hold of a large rucksack, he seemed to be constantly fiddling or swinging it and it caused a racket quite distracting to Kaname, forcing him to really concentrate to distinguish the sounds around him. This was truly the most ignorant and insensitive man he had ever met, even Gin had learnt quickly that it was dangerous to move objects around a blind man who could not see, and the sudden change in layout would be disruptive to Wonderweiss who felt uneasy with changes in environment. Kaname could not say he was at all impressed.

"Perhaps," he said in an emotionless tone, "you would like me to take your bag from you, Muguruma-san?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure, I guess. Thanks."

The kitchen was a reasonable size, square, with many work-surfaces along the outside, but with an empty space in the centre. There was a dog basket in the far corner by the back door, it was the only play the young dog seemed to sleep and so it was convenient, but for that reason they were forced to tile the kitchen entirely, It would be too dangerous after all for a dog to be loose in the kitchen with no way for a blind man to know its whereabouts, and the tiled floor allowed for its paws to be heard and thus for Kaname to adjust his route when he walked. There was no door to the living room, and instead they'd opened up the entire wall and put in a breakfast bar, it enabled Komamura and Kaname to pass items to one another easily then when they were both busy, and made communication between the two easier.

Kaname placed down the bread knife he was holding to cut the sandwiches for lunch, and turned around with a slight smile upon his lips. He wandered across the tiled kitchen to the breakfast bar and took a step into the small aisle, when he reached out for his guest's bag the other man dropped it into his hand, it was heavy but easy to carry and seemed just small enough to be placed out the way without hassle. Its material was rough and thick, and when Kaname ran a hand over it the bag seemed covered with zips and clips, possibly originally intended for camping or travel, and much alike Komamura's bag, except the material of his bag was waterproof and smooth. It would be impossible to confuse the two.

"I will place it this side of the bar out of the way," Kaname said, carefully placing the item next to Sajin's bag in the kitchen on the other side of the bar, out of Muguruma's sight. "It is next to Sajin's so it will be easy to find."

"Yeah, right."

Kaname gave a polite smile and then walked back across the kitchen to where the sandwiches were, and proceeded to wrap them carefully in cling-film. There was a simple bento-box to his side already filled with different foods; fish, rice, fruit and nori, but Wonderweiss – unlike his father – preferred Western food, which was thankfully a lot easier to make. There was a large lunchbox on top of Sajin's bento, and already it was filled with pots of fruit salad, yoghurt, cartons of juice and now sandwiches, it would hopefully be enough to fill the boy up and provide a balanced meal. He closed the lid of the box and turned to clean the work-surface.

"So," Muguruma said awkwardly, "are you guys heading somewhere?"

"My husband and son are going fishing for the day," Kaname said, almost conversationally. "Sajin will be taking Wonderweiss for a play-date with two friends in the afternoon. Although I do not approve of either of the girls' guardians, these interactions are beneficial to Wonderweiss' well-being."

"Ah, yeah, that sounds like fun. It's good for a kid to . . . you know . . . socialise and stuff . . ." The other man gave an uncomfortable cough and began to tap nervously on the top of the bar. "So what kind of fishing is it?"

"There are more than one kinds of fishing?"

"Err, yeah . . ."

This certainly wasn't turning out to be a fun day for either of them . . .

There were things that needed to be said, certain things that had to be discussed, and there was perhaps only so much time for it to be said. Outside Kaname could hear his son wailing loudly, and with that noise there was also the sound of rhythmic slaps with a constant humming. It seemed that Wonderweiss had taken upset at something and that Sajin was trying to comfort him, by singing and patting him on his back, it would take a while for the boy to calm down, and if the car was not already packed that would take time also. That left perhaps ten minutes, twenty at most, for Kaname to say what he needed to say, and then Sajin would come inside for the lunches and his bag, and then he would be unable to say it. He would need to speak quickly, or he would miss his chance to speak at all.

He walked slowly over to a small refrigerator in a far corner, one that opened from top and required a key to unlock – something necessary when it was at easy height for a dog or child – and carefully unlocked the fridge. Inside there were many boxes, but only two that he needed. He could feel the ice cold exterior, smooth and flawless, and he was told that the boxes were opaque and carefully made, the lacquer surface painted with old-fashioned images of fishing and related activities. He could not be sure if that was the case, but all he cared about was that these revolting items were not kept in the usual refrigerator with the food, especially after an incident where poor Wonderweiss had once reached up for a chocolate bar and knocked the container over himself. Kaname had been furious with Sajin for that. It was not only disgusting to keep live bait with food, but it was even more irresponsible to do so with the container not fully secured in a house with a small child. Kaname had not shouted, he had not screamed, he had not become violent in the least . . . but needless to say the very next day a separate refrigerator had been brought, new containers, and a lock, and the vile creatures were not seen again until it was time to place them in the car to travel to the lakes and rivers.

Kaname walked slowly over to the bags and placed the bait boxes beside the two bags on the floor, then returned for the food boxes and instead put these on top of the bar beside Muguruma's elbow, accidentally knocking the man as he did so and apologising briefly. He then took a step back and listened to the sounds of the house. Upstairs was silent except for Hisagi's phone ringing that he had left behind, and in the kitchen Goro was rolling around in his basket, playing with what sounded like a bone nearly hollow, and outside Wonderweiss' crying had slowed down to a mere pitiful whining. It was peaceful in all, but certainly full of signs of life. It would not be long before they were interrupted, and so Kaname spoke.

"I once had an affair."

There was absolute silence from Muguruma. He had ceased fidgeting and moving completely. His body became still, and there were regular sounds of intakes of breath and little smacks of lips, almost as if he was trying to speak but found himself unable to, and in the end he contented himself with a deep drawing of breath and sounded as if he had brushed his hand through his hair. The silence in itself was indicative that Kaname had broken the awkward quiet with something even worse, something beyond what the term 'awkward' could fully express.

He had put Muguruma in a very uncomfortable situation, one in which the other man had no idea how to react. It was somewhat satisfying to know he had caused the man such discomfort, but at the same time there was not time for these kind of reactions.

When Muguruma eventually spoke all he said was: "Come again?"

"I said that I have once had an affair," Kaname said again. "Sajin and I have been together for nine years. We have been friends since were teenagers, but we were not a serious couple until I was twenty-two. Our relationship has been solid, but then around three years ago we hit a rough patch. I had been spending far too much time at work, neglecting my family, and Sajin was obsessed with the man I was, he was not giving me enough freedoms to adapt and change, I felt constrained. We were at a company party one evening and I regret to say I became drunk, I then slept with a colleague of mine."

The silence was almost deafening. Kaname could practically hear the judgement and the puzzlement radiating from his guest; there was the way his breathing had slowed as if trying not to react instinctively, the way he was no longer moving as if he had tensed his muscles, and the way that he was clearly waiting to see what would come next. He was evidently angry to meet another man whom had cheated on his partner, much like how Hisagi had cheated on him, but also knowing that a man would not just confess to a past misdemeanour unless he had reason to, and that if he waited Kaname would no doubt reveal that reason.

After a long moment he spoke again, but this time his voice was bitter and hollow, there was a definite edge to his tone that spoke clearly of accusation and also sounded slightly defensive.

"So? What's this got to do with me?"

"I will not divulge the reasons for what I did, needless to say what I did was wrong. I had sworn to live a just and moral life and instead I had betrayed the one I loved . . . Hisagi has betrayed you in that same way. He had a need that was not being fulfilled and – instead of acting maturely as I have tried to teach him – he reached out to the first person that fulfilled that need. That may have been a physical or emotional need, but that is up to you and Hisagi to discover . . ."

Kaname drew in a deep breath. It was true . . . all affairs and betrayals stemmed from a need, and his had been freedom.

His life had not been at all an easy one. His blindness had made it hard to make friends, many saw him as too much effort and he could not play or socialise the same way his peers could, but one person had seen past that blindness, one person had been there for him. He had loved her unconditionally. She would spend the nighttimes trying to describe the stars to him, in the mornings she would always laugh and smile and teach him to cook and fend for himself, and in the afternoons she would head to work. He admired her love for the world, her passion for her job, and then one day she was brutally taken away from him, murdered by her own husband . . .

Her death had disillusioned him. Her husband had not been sentenced as he should have been, there had been no justice, her death had not been avenged, and he was forced to live his life alone, without the love and support of the person who had meant so much to him. One man had stolen a life and in return he was allowed to live, he was not punished in the slightest.

So Tousen had tried to live a life she would have been proud of. He tried to fit into society and make friends, to live a just and correct life, but somehow it had all seemed so hollow . . . He had met Sajin in university as he studied for his law degree and suddenly he felt as if there was hope in his life, but it was a shallow hope, tainted by his fear that Sajin would one day leave him as she had done, or betray him in a way that her husband had done. He still loathed the world around him, the people and society that had let them both down, and Sajin seemed so naïve and optimistic, unable to see the world for what it truly was. Yes, Sajin had suffered, but Kaname was suffering too, and he had been too self-centred to see Sajin's pain, to even notice that the other man was in love with him, and so they had parted. Kaname began to sleep with the teaching assistant in his law class, the same man that would later become his boss, and the same man would begin a rather complex relationship with his professor Hirako-sensei. It had ended amicably, and Kaname and Aizen-sama had remained in touch. Kaname had tried to live the life his friend would have wanted for him, he tried so very hard, he had entered a career in publishing and had even a minor success from his cookery books, and indeed his later career as an editor had allowed him to fall in love with Sajin and befriend Hisagi-kun, but it wasn't enough . . .

Tousen had felt compelled to use his qualifications to enter a career in law, leaving Hisagi behind and entering Arrancar as one of Aizen's right-hand men. It seemed to go well, and although Sajin could not fault his relationship with Wonderweiss he did have other complaints. He seemed to be frustrated that Kaname had changed, he was angry that Kaname was spending too much time at work, and each time he tried to control and limit these changes Kaname resented him. He wanted freedom to explore the law, the concepts of justice, and make sure that justice was achieved, and most of all he wanted room to grow as a person. They had fought the night before Aizen's party, and Kaname had said some cruel words and Sajin had blamed Aizen for everything, insisting Kaname quit his job, and it was then that Wonderweiss came in and their argument was forced to end.

That night Kaname had a one-night-stand with Gin.

"I confessed to Sajin at once, much as Hisagi-kun did with you," Kaname continued, "and he was indeed furious. There are some people who cannot forgive such a betrayal, indeed I know a brute of a man who told his girlfriend to leave and not to come back, but Sajin isn't like that. He loves me, and swore he would always do what he needed to do in order to be with me. He forgave me. It took a long time, but he did. I had to live with the guilt every day, and it took me much longer than it did for him to forgive myself, and even now I find myself doing unnecessary things for him to try and put it right. I believe now that our relationship is stronger than it has ever been. What happened will never happen again."

"What? So you're saying I should just forgive Hisagi? I already fucking forgave him, he's the one who's keeping me waiting here!"

"That is not what I am saying." Kaname turned to Muguruma and gave him a penetrating stare, one that was effective even if he could not see the other man, and continued in a slow but firm tone of voice, "I am saying forgive him or let him go. If you keep mentioning his betrayal than that is not forgiveness, a man who forgives the past does not need to keep bringing it back up in the present."

There was a sudden silence and Kaname could only hope that his words were sinking in, that Muguruma was paying close attention to his meaning. If Hisagi was foolish enough to take this foul man back then he wanted to make sure that the past stayed in the past, he would not allow for his friend to be emotionally abused simply because Muguruma found it enjoyable to sate his sadistic needs on Hisagi.

He bent down and carefully felt the bags on the floor, making sure to get a feel for which was which as he undid the necessary clips. He then lifted the two boxes of bait and placed them in their necessary places, ready for the fishing trip, checking with his fingers the lids of each one. It took only a few seconds to do up the clips and zips, and he then lifted Sajin's bag and placed it on the bar, far side from the food, and then reached down for Muguruma's bag and handed it to him gently and respectfully. The other man jumped up and grabbed the bag, pulling it on before kicking the sofa back into its original place. He was violent even in the simplest of actions. It was frustrating to Kaname to have to deal with this type of man, and he was only too glad to see the back of him, so to speak.

"One last thing," Kaname said quietly, hearing Sajin's heavy booted footsteps returning to the house. "Sajin – even in our worst moments – has never raised a fist to me. No man should ever raise his fists. I have already lost one friend, Muguruma-san," at this he placed a firm hand on the man's shoulder, "if anything should happen to Hisagi-kun again it shall be a tragedy."

Muguruma harshly shrugged Tousen's hand from his shoulder. He gave a growl of disapproval and marched away angrily, muttering rude expletives under his breath. Kaname remained fixed to his spot and stayed quiet until he heard the front door slamming closed, and it was then that he allowed himself to relax and move from his spot and turn to face the kitchen door instead.

Sajin entered quickly with a loud sigh, it seemed as if he was rather frustrated by the tantrum Wonderweiss had thrown, but when he came close enough to Kaname he merely pulled the man to him in a long embrace and kissed him softly on the top of his head. Kaname gave a soft smile as Sajin pulled away and scooped up his bag, before pulling the lunchboxes across the bar and under his arm. There was a slight pause of sound before a minor sound of rummaging, a few frustrated grunts, and then the larger man shuffled around and spoke in a slow deliberate voice. Kaname felt a twinge of pain knowing that his lover was suffering was a bad day, and wished he had the time to go with them, but unfortunately he had an obligation to ride with Gin to Unohana's and wait for him. It seemed the silver-haired man could not be trusted to go to his appointment alone, and Kaname was being paid well to chaperone his friend and colleague. Luckily, however, it turned out for the best, Kaname could not claim to enjoy fishing or spending an afternoon with Yachiru, Nel or Wonderweiss together.

"Kaname," Sajin said gruffly, "where is the second box of maggots? I do not have time to be packing things that should already have been done, Wonderweiss is growing restless and he will not wish to be seated in the car for long."

"Oh?" Kaname said a little too innocently with a face a little too passive. "I am sorry, it seems I must have put an open box into Muguruma-san's bag by mistake, blindness is indeed a handicap."

"An open box?"

"Yes, a man like him would probably not even notice an extra maggot or two."

Even though he could not see Sajin's face he knew the man was smiling . . .


	28. Chapter 28

It had been the most amazing night of his life – in a long time anyway. After doing all of his chores, being sent into town by Tessai-Otousan for groceries and some wool (his father had recently started knitting – the evidence of which could be seen in Kisuke's new bed socks, something he couldn't seem to be able to get out of wearing), he half expected it to be another dull day. He'd run into Keigo in town with Kojima – they were outside the clothes store waiting for a few of the girls – Renji had glanced in and noticed Tatsuki giving that Chizuru-san a good kick, Orihime behind them with shirt buttons missing. They invited him to hang around, but Tessai-Otousan would probably want the wool ASAP – most likely to finish off the colourful jumper he was making for Jinta; and who was Renji to object to the torment of his younger brother?

He arrived at the wool shop, the attendant told him to hold on a few moments while he finished with another customer, Renji had taken a seat and glanced over at the boy on the other side of the shop, leaning over the counter as he and the assistant sorted through a box of different silks on spindles. For a moment Renji's eyes ran along the other boy's slender legs and tight round buttocks admiringly, before his mind made the connection with the other's voice.

"Hey, Uryu," he called a little nervously. It had been a while since they spoke; and regarding the incident at Ichigo's place they hadn't talked at all. When they saw each other at school, Renji felt all embarrassed – he'd wanted… to touch him again, or at least talk and try and make it up to him.

When the dark haired boy turned and their eyes met, all of a sudden rushing back to Tessai-Otousan didn't seem so serious anymore.

He dropped off the wool and the groceries, leaving them with Ururu, before he met Uryu in the next street. It had been… awkward at first, they'd made ideal chatter – school work and Ichimaru being fired – that kind of thing… then it had been quiet for a long time. Renji's head had been zooming from thought to thought, he wanted to tell Uryu he was sorry about that night at Ichigo's, sorry for being so forward and just expecting him to want to do more… without establishing… anything solid. Then at last he found the guts to say it…

"Hey, I wanted to say… sorry for the other night at Ichigo's. I was totally… inappropriate, so I'm glad you wanted to hang out."

Uryu smiled softly, and then rolled his eyes, "You're such a dork." The two of them laughed, and then once again nothing was said for a little while, they walked all the way to the park and sat around by the water, Renji kept thinking of something witty or clever to say – right now all he could come up with was some absolute crap about how the pond seemed to have a shopping trolley in it. He'd learnt from the months he dated Yumichika that he had to watch what came out of his mouth.

One hideous time, the two of them had been sat awkwardly on Renji's bed, when he randomly said, "Did you know bass players have really big hands?" Then he'd gone off on a really long ridiculous rant about different bass players in bands he'd seen – he'd been so busy ranting that by the time he turned to look at his boyfriend, Yumichika was staring at him like he was completely mad.

And then there was the time – the only time he'd seen his ex-lover acting insecure, Renji had tried to be all sophisticated and compassionate to console him – he'd just about managed to calm him down, Yumichika had said "Tell me I'm beautiful." – To which Renji responded, "Is the Pope a vicar?" – The model had looked at him blankly for a moment, before frowning, "No."

Uryu broke the silence; he coughed awkwardly, and then said, "This pond has… erm… a trolley in it."

All of a sudden Renji didn't feel awkward or afraid anymore, he'd laughed with the whole of his heart, and then Uryu glowered at him, going to demand to know what was so funny – but he couldn't really help himself anymore, so he leant over and took his chin in his hand as he kissed him.

For a moment he was worried he'd be pushed away, until he felt slim fingers reaching up and winding into his hair, pulling him close. It felt so natural to slip his own arms around Uryu's waist, to clasp onto his back and enjoy the feel of the other boy's skin, his warm lithe little body. After a few moments of breathless kissing, Uryu pulled him over him slightly.

"I like you," he whispered breathlessly into Renji's ear, "I think… I like you."

It made him almost… melt!

"Me too," he said, having to look away so the other wouldn't see how red his cheeks had gotten. Awkwardly Renji leant down and kissed him on the lips, before pulling away, "You wanna go somewhere, Uryu?"

As far as dates went it wasn't earth shattering, but it was nice. They went on a walk, and then they went to see a movie – a new horror film – which turned out to be utterly hilarious. When Renji wasn't laughing at the ridiculous dialogue, he was laughing over Uryu's scornful expression. Half way through he went off to take a leak, Izuru rang. It worried him a little bit, the blonde was with Ichimaru again, trying to convince Renji of how happy and in love he was. If Renji hadn't been in such a damn good mood, he'd probably have considered calling Izuru's parents to let them know their little tea party with Sosuke Aizen was a complete sham. He shrugged off and half heartedly accepted his friend's happiness – sure Ichimaru was a complete and utter creep – but he made Izuru happy… Being in a good mood and all, Renji could accept that, not only for Izuru, but because he was right now, about to go back to making out with a gorgeous, smart guy – who liked him!

After the film ended they walked back to Uryu's place – his dad wasn't due home yet, so they hung out in the back pass between the clean white wall and the house, Renji pressed him against the wall and they kissed breathlessly. Tonight – fully made up for all those embarrassing times he'd be kissing Yumichika's neck, just inside him, anticipating the pleasure to come – when the model would take his face in his hands, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown and say, "Shall we stop? It's not very beautiful to be bored."

Uryu's lips were so soft, and he was so slim and the cautious way he put his hands on him when they made out – it made Renji's heart flutter. He'd never felt like this with anyone, and it was such a good feeling! When he pulled away to leave, Uryu's hand had lingered on his shoulder and the redhead wished with all his heart he could have stayed right there. But Tessai-Otousan would worry and no doubt Kisuke would have questions – not to mention what would happen if Uryu's dad got back from the hospital early.

It was strange to hear someone talk so openly about their resentment towards a parent. Uryu spoke about his dad like he was some sort of unfeeling anti-Christ. Which was a little crazy to Renji – Ishida-san was so strict and a little over protective, but surely it was clear to everyone that he adored his son? In a way Renji felt lucky that he was adopted when he did – naturally he complained about Kisuke's chores and immature pranks – punishments… always with the punishments. Yet at the end of the day, he couldn't imagine him being any different or wanting his family any other way.

Still, it was a little bit of a pain whenever he tried to complain, only to be met with his so called friends scolding him – "Your dad's are awesome, Renji, what the hell?"

The redhead turned up outside his house, frowning in surprise as he saw a taxi pull up infront of it. He half wondered if Yoruichi-san had decided to playfully sneak away from Soi Fon in disguise and kip on their sofa – in his early years living with Kisuke, it had been one of life's little pleasures to wake up, come downstairs and find a beautiful woman fast asleep on the sofa. Naturally it wasn't always an attractive image – sometimes she snored – but nine times out of ten, it was like something from a really good dream.

His eyes widened when he was faced with that really weird toothed guy from Uryu's party – the blonde who'd fooled around with Kisuke in the past – Shinji something, he could have sworn that was his name.

From what Renji could see, the guy looked really disgruntled, infact he seemed really pissed off. His hands were clenched into fists, and he was talking loudly and irritably into his phone – plus his clothes looked all ruffled – dirty infact… there was this really suspicious looking white stain on the front of his shirt, almost like…? Eww – no, perhaps he just had a dirty mind – that had to be it… He didn't want to think about some friend of his father's doing those kinds of things!

"Oh… hey, Renji-kun," he raised a hand and waved at him gently, though there was still irritation in his eyes. If he knew nothing else, Renji knew that look – it was the look he used to get after Yumichika avoided him for days – calls, texts, etc… the look Yumichika had when Ikkaku was being evasive and reckless. It was the gaze of a pissed off boyfriend.

"Hey there, Hirako-san… what're you doing here so late?"

"I thought now would be a good time to… erm… visit Kisuke," he ruffled his hair with his hand, "I'll… knock."

"Nah, I have a key," Renji fished it out of his trouser pocket, before taking another glance at the suspicious stain on Shinji Hirako's shirt – there was no doubt about it. The older man stank of sex… and cologne – not his own. Good God – fancy coming here after doing something like that!

"Thanks, Renji-kun."

The two of them stepped inside, Renji was relieved to see the lights were off, he could hear Jinta and Ururu watching TV upstairs – based on this time of night, Tessai-Otousan and Kisuke would be off doing something else, most likely having one of their chats out in the garden over a bottle of wine. It was really sweet, in a weird kind of way. It was nice to know they loved each other as much as they did.

Shinji looked kind of nervous, as they closed the door; he tugged on Renji's sleeve, lowering his voice, "Hey… is there somewhere I could get some sleep… without your pa seein' me until the morning?"

"Erm… sure, I guess." He could only assume Shinji Hirako had come from wherever he'd been hooking up at and gotten straight here because it was the closest. Hell, he was probably with someone Kisuke didn't approve of… Right now, Renji couldn't think of anyone Kisuke really disliked… not off the top of his head – especially when all he wanted to think about was kissing Uryu Ishida again…

The redhead began to lead him up the stairs, gesturing for him to follow him – when the stair-head light flickered on, revealing Kisuke, sat on the top step, his hat low down, shading over his eyes, tapping his stick against the wall.

"Renji Abarai, what time do you call this?" he chuckled darkly, "Get to bed now. I'll deal with you in the morning."

His tone completely terrified him – it was Kisuke's 'Don't-Fuck-With-Me' mode that made his bones jitter under his skin. The redhead shuffled nervously, before nodding his head meekly and moving past him on the stairs, shooting Shinji and apologetic look before he all but dived into his room. Renji rested his head against the bedroom door, listening as he heard Kisuke say, "And you, I can't believe. We're going outside for a talk, Shinji."

Somehow, he thought he'd gotten off pretty lightly for now…

It was sometimes a little scary that Grimmjow found himself in such a serious relationship. His parents had been so on and off, hell, they had a massive lapse of never seeing each other and being pissed off, then one day their eyes met and Grimmjow's graduation and nine months later, Nel came into the world.

Sure, a serious relationship or so to speak was probably something everyone wanted or worked for – or at least something that was secretly desired; even if that desire was just for a steady shag who knew all your favourite places.

Guys like Grimmjow had always imagined any kind of serious relationship would be with a dim-witted diner worker with a cute face and a nice ass – they would decide they were meant to be together when they were too old to really argue with that. Mind you, in those days he'd always imagined he'd end up working as some kind of flashy con-man or a guy who kept fake Rolex's in his jacket and offer them to people for a 'reasonable price'.

He'd never imagined that at his age, he'd find someone who fitted with him so perfectly. In Ichigo, he found someone he could talk intimately with; to connect on a level that he just hadn't before. He'd thought it before and he'd think it again, Luppi seemed so… dirty and vile compared to someone as naturally beautiful as Ichigo. The orange haired man was proud, he could be moody and bad tempered, but he was kind, kinder than anyone Grimmjow had known. It made him feel… lucky that he had someone so very close. But at the same time, giving so much to someone emotionally put your heart in a vulnerable position – like if he got mad, Ichigo could calm him with just a few words or the right sort of look… Grimmjow would just forgive him because he adored him. The idea of Ichigo not feeling the same or as strongly anymore made his heart ache – if Ichigo chose some other guy over him, he wouldn't let him go. It made him want a little more of his lover, piece by piece, he wanted to possess him completely.

It hadn't changed after they started sleeping together – as this was the point in all his relationships where his interest deflated. Infact it felt… great, Ichigo was inexperienced, but he was keen to learn, though he wouldn't ask. It was utterly hot when the younger man was at the peak of his pleasure; his face would lose all of that Godly composure and he'd cry out in a way that made Grimmjow's groin stir just remembering….

This whole serious relationship love scenario was scarier than any battle. You were giving someone the power to hurt you. Love could make you lose your way, lose your reason. Grimmjow wondered if he worried because he'd seen the battlefield that was Nnoitra and Szayel, post-Luppi.

Nnoitra, who was one of the proudest and most self confident men Grimmjow knew, had become self-loathing, despairing, and humiliatingly hopeful. He'd have days where he seemed back to normal, fine once more, and then he'd see Szayel crossing the corridor with his lackey's, and his expression would change, his eyes would linger on his former love for a few minutes – as if praying Szayel would be looking back.

And then there was Szayel – who Grimmjow had known since he was a kid, they'd lived in the same neighbourhood and his elder brother had been in Grimmjow's gang. Szayel had always been this prissy, confident and very wacky kid who liked things 'just so', who didn't change that much as an adult. Then Nnoitra slept with Luppi and the pink haired scientist just lost it. For weeks he just carried on with his work like nothing had happened, then one day Luppi dropped a file off in his office and Szayel had a breakdown after he left – he threw a chair, smashed a window, ripped things up and genuinely made havoc. Aizen sent him off for emotional leave, made him go and see Unohana – as worryingly, Szayel admitted he was serving as his own doctor. Nobody saw him for ages afterwards, Grimmjow and Stark went to check on him, and the poor guy was a mess. The scarily immaculate apartment was in disarray, the front door was unlocked with all the windows open, papers all over the floor, a broken shelf, broken bottles, a broken coffee table, half a ton of unread mail, clothes all over the place. Szayel was just lying around on the sofa, his hair a mess, his face stubbled, wearing Nnoitra's baggy shirt.

There is was – the devastating effects of being madly in love and having it go down the shitter: Nnoitra utterly miserable and Szayel sinking into a catatonic break-down, which was replaced with cruelty and apathy.

It was utter chaos.

That was the annoying thing about being a third party, you could see how devastated both of them were, but they couldn't. It was damn annoying, he wanted to just smack their heads together and tell them to get over it! Infact nowadays he was royally tempted too.

It had been nearly a year since they broke up and they were clearly not over each other – why couldn't they just get back together. Nnoitra was getting boring without sex. Just the other day Nnoitra had gone nuts at work, he yelled at intern, hit some guy over the head after court, yelled at Tesla, threw a box at someone else and was sent home by Tousen.

The night of Aizen's stupid little dinner party, Szayel didn't turn up for work, one of the people in the law department said they'd heard Granz-san was sending in his work via email and postal delivery. Naturally this meant those two idiots had done something regarding each other. Good God…

When a relationship lost its flow, life was all about mistakes. Nnoitra was full of 'If only I'd finished making love to him that night' after the two of them nearly got back together on a business trip, 'Then he'd have known that when it's us, me and him – it's different'. Life is full of 'what if' style bumps in the road – what if Nnoitra hadn't gone home with Luppi that night, what if Szayel had been less fragile? It was a dark and depressed road to trek down; you could get torn up in regret…

Looking back, Grimmjow felt his bumps in the road had helped him. He went almost completely off the rails when his parents died, he dropped out of college, he started his gang back up, and he did a lot of petty crime – nearly faced prison… twice. Come to think of it, it had been a mix of wanting to do good for Nel and the disapproval on everyone's face whenever they looked his way.

He remembered taking Nel for a walk in her pram, going into a store and cramming the buggy full of stolen crap, cigarettes and booze mostly, he'd been handing them out around his gang in Ylforte's apartment; Szayel was staying over, and came out of his room with such scornful eyes. Grimmjow, who'd been downing a drink, looked over at him and stuck up his middle finger, "You got somethin' t' say?"

"No," Szayel smirked, "I was merely thinking that in ten or eleven years she'll be hiding those under her clothes. You make the most delightful role model."

It made him wonder, what his life, what Nel's life would be like if he stopped all this shit and made good for her. All the 'what if' of Grimmjow's past seemed to land him somewhere he didn't want, or couldn't bear to think about? Perhaps the best you could do in life was work hard with what you had and hope it didn't all go to the fire.

He rolled over in his bed, wrapping an arm around Ichigo's chest, drawing the younger boy closer to him. Grimmjow took in his smell, that lovely lingering scent… "I love you," he whispered. He adored this man, wanted to see every part of him, to possess him completely, the blue haired man nuzzled into his neck. He couldn't wait to see Ichigo's face when he surprised them with their week away from it all – he'd even instilled the help of Ichigo's friend, Renji – hopefully not against his better judgement, to invite a couple of buddies over. He'd rented out Aizen's summer house especially – then they were gonna have a tent together on this beautiful lake side camp site… It would be heavenly… Not to mention he'd invited Stark, Nnoitra and Szayel to give him a bit of company – a weekend away with his boyfriend, and the perfect opportunity to give those two jerks a good dose of reality…

Who said he wasn't a nice person?

Once again, everyone was furious with him for one thing or another… Shinji Hirako was sat in his office feeling all together a child who'd just been told off by Mommy and Daddy… which was pretty fucked up when the ones who filled those roles were Hiyori and Kisuke. They were so mad over the Aizen thing… naturally during his little… escapades with that bastard; the fact that it could all go horribly wrong just didn't seem to matter. It worked very much the same way when Kisuke was mad at him – part of him would wonder if Sosuke was worth it at all.

He drummed his fingers on his desk, wondering if right now he had any friends who weren't going to shout at him. His cheek was all red and sore from Hiyori attacking him with her sandal; Kisuke had stopped her originally, then given up and just let her at him. What they said was a whole lot of the same 'Are you stupid?' 'Are you trying to damage our fuckin' business, you damn dick-head!' 'He's just going to mess you around again'… Part of him wondered if it was worth it for great sex… The sensible answer was probably no, and the logical part of him knew this whole fling was Sosuke was opening up the past – karma would probably have them ending up the exact same way. Shinji didn't want to think about the real reasons he was doing this… Who the hell wanted to search their soul for the true reason he couldn't just end things with Aizen in the first place?

Perhaps part of him was drawn to those brown eyes once again… That was the thing about Sosuke, even when Shinji had him pegged as a trouble-maker, there still wasn't one hell of a lot he did know about him for certain. Aizen just loved to say 'If you had bothered to get to know me', but would that make his soul any more on show? Or would he just continue to be as distant as impossible? Shinji knew that deep down, a bit of him had always known that he was lost in those eyes… those strange deep windows to Sosuke's soul. For so long since the law suit, Shinji had assured himself that all that existed beneath every façade Sosuke presented him with was nothing but evil and cold… He had believed it with all his heart – it made it easier to bypass the feelings he'd thought he shared with his former assistant. It was so much easier to hate him for being a con and a liar. For all he cared, Sosuke Aizen may as well have been a toy for his pleasure, the night he saved Hiyori from getting sued… he walked away knowing the guy was evil – really bad news… Hell, you'd have to be crazy to want that… over and over…

But then, when he kidnapped him, Shinji saw something else in those eyes. He felt as though he'd fallen a little deeper in Sosuke Aizen's soul. There was a part of that cold, clinical, evil man, who was… pissed at him for letting him go – who fired a guy for getting involved with Shinji sexually. There was a man who all but said Shinji could never have anyone else – that he wouldn't let him… For about a second he thought Sosuke was letting him further, offering him something… more.

Of course he wasn't – he just enjoyed seeing him pissed off. Perhaps all that bullshit about Shinji not being allowed to move on was nothing but bullshit. Maybe he always would be lost in those brown eyes.

He needed to talk to someone else about this – Ichigo, bless him, was too young to be driven round the bend with his problems. Love and Rose would roll their eyes and say 'Just dump him then' or something like that… they were much too lazy to really-really understand.

Shinji could understand why Hiyori and Kisuke were angry… they were mad because they cared. Kisuke had lost his career over Sosuke's selfishness – which no doubt that bastard had said was all Shinji's fault ('Oh, didn't you understand, Shinji? You were meant to break the court order and leave Kisuke's apartment and come talk to me, duh! Oh, you sent your pal, Kisuke – I shall sue him!) – Hiyori had gone through her teens seeing the lasting effects of Aizen vs. Shinji VOL I – why should she have any desire to see how VOL II turned out?

Lisa had been getting closer with that Luppi character, who had a real bad habit of watching him around the office – and Lisa was probably a little pissed off at him for his taking advantage of her 'lovely new assistant's' vulnerable mental state – which wasn't all together fair.

Hachi was too nice for him to talk so openly about Sosuke with… There isn't a nice way of saying to your most mature friend that the most beautiful part on this bastard guy was his penis. And talking to Mashiro was never a good idea – besides, she was working on a new photo shoot downstairs – he'd heard her shouting at her photographer – whom she called Lottie-chan (the enormous drag queen), and one of the models, whose name he vaguely heard as 'Yumi-Yumi'.

Kensei was his best bet – good ol' boyfriend-bashing Kensei. He'd be willing to just listen to him rant for a while, right?

Shinji picked himself up off his desk, walking to the door and pressing his ear against it, incase Hiyori was still outside – in that case he was tempted to sneak out via the window… despite the four storey drop. He was in luck – the blonde woman seemed to have found something more compelling to do than bother him and nag him about his mistakes. He began to walk down the corridor, towards that familiar door which read 'Ken-Sucks' – scrawled on in Sharpie pen, by himself, one drunkern evening at the office. It was the same day they all ended up in intensive care at this hospital, roaring drunk, with Mashiro and Kensei's faces stuck together with super-super glue. He made a pass at a cute nurse, which turned out to be a very embarrassed work experience student – a boy named Hanataro. And Unohana-Sensei gave them a stiff lecture… something like 'You are all adults, not children, stop behaving in these stupid, reckless ways – now go home, and sleep before I put laxatives in your coffee', apart from said in a much more sweet and subtle kind of way.

Shinji was about to knock, when he heard the distinct sound of kissing behind the door… Morbid curiosity perked, he leant over to peek through the key hole, only to catch sight of Kensei and Toy-Boy-san – the younger male had appeared to have thrown his arms around his ex-lover and was kissing him passionately. Kensei's hands trembled for a moment, before they came to rise on Shuhei's shoulders.

When the kiss broke, Kensei raised his hands to Shuhei's face, and leaning forward, their foreheads touching as he breathed out his lover's name over and over for a moment. Shuhei covered his mouth with his hand, looking away for a moment as he whispered, "I miss you," he pressed his face against his former lover's shoulder, taking in his smell, "I hate this. I love you."

"I'm sorry I hit you," Kensei interrupted him, holding him tightly to his chest; "It was so fucked up, Shu. I was so mad… but I'm not anymore, I want you to come home… I want ya home with me…" In all his life, he'd never talked like that too anyone, it was endearing – desperate… putting his feelings out there and praying to God Shuhei felt the same. That bastard Tousen had put shit in his bag, but he'd also given him something to think about. It wasn't just that he'd hit Shuhei that was playing on his ex lover's mind, it was how Kensei behaved. You can only get over an obstacle like cheating in a relationship, it you actually let it go – you can't have moved on if you use it as fire power. "I acted, like such a fucking…"

The younger man had taken his face in his hands again and was kissing him breathlessly, his hand running through his love's short silvery hair. He'd missed Kensei so badly – he'd been so angry and confused… sure that if they got back together, the fact he'd kissed Yumichika would never quite leave the firing ground in an argument. What if Kensei got suspicious all the time, demanding to know where he was going, who he was going off with…? That kind of thing scared the shit out of him… But all in all, he couldn't escape one simple fact – he was still in love with Kensei. It was always Kensei.

Shuhei broke the kiss and pulled himself back a little, gathering his thoughts before he spoke, "I-I want my name on the apartment," he said finally, "I helped cover the rent anyway, so I want both of our names on it. I won't come back unless you agree. You… pretty much threw me out on the street, and I don't want to be out in the cold like that a-again, okay?" He remembered Tousen's words, this advice before he left. The older man had said it was foolish not to have done so in the first place, and Kensei should have taken it upon himself to organise it, as Shuhei was too young and naïve to think the man he loved would ever just tell him to 'get out'.

"This will never, ever happen again," Kensei whispered into his ear, drawing him close, "But we'll get your name on the apartment… and one of my cars, if you want it, Shu –"

He laughed softly, leaning into him and stroking his shoulder, "One step at a time, okay?" he breathed, shaking his head and holding onto Kensei gently. There was a reassurance in this embrace, the safety Shuhei had missed all those nights alone… that powerful beating heart pounding against his like a sun, and his own following it like a planet in orbit.

Shinji decided it would be best to leave Kensei alone, part of him relieved that he was able to sort things out with Toy-Boy-san – as the former bouncer was incredibly awful at being full of self pity. Perhaps he'd catch him later or something for a talk? Hell, maybe this was the kind of thing only he could work out for himself. Afterall, it wasn't like any of his friends had exchanged more than a few words with Sosuke – unless you counted the angry phone messages Hiyori sent – which he was pretty sure Sosuke saved to listen too in his spare time.

"I'm going home," he called to Rose, who was passing him by holding a load of t-shirts – looking a lot like he'd just returned from the shoot. He gave Shinji a nonchalant kind of nod, before he disappeared into his office – that was the best thing about running into someone who isn't going to give you a lecture – you could just clear off and know they'd be the one getting it in the neck when they had to tell Hiyori.

The drive to his apartment was swift – he needed some time alone… really alone, if he was going to think about what to do with Sosuke. Confronting him would be a waste of time, he might see a flash of emotion, but then it would be gone again and Shinji would look a fool. The whole thing made his head hurt, nothing could be bloody simple anymore… Say the tables turned, if he told Sosuke to let him go, but the crazy bastard be able to follow through with his end? Or would he just say no?

Would it be arrogant to think that fucking Sosuke Aizen cared about him on more than just a steady screw level? It sounded arrogant in his head – what if he just laughed at him if he asked him out loud… Worse, what if it meant Shinji would have to really think about what Aizen meant to him? That wasn't really a road he wanted to go down, no way… Hell, he was probably just in a romantic mood because he saw Kensei getting back together with his cute boyfriend. He wasn't thinking straight, what he needed was to chill out, listen to some jazz and eat some takeaway food. He'd resort to phoning a friend for Aizen-advice, or get drunk and ring Aizen for a booty call.

Perhaps it would just be smarter to wash his hands of him… Just to say 'Thanks very fuckin' much but go be a psycho somewhere else'. That was probably the smartest thing he could do – he was just gonna get messed around anyway, he who laughs last laughs the loudest, right? And his laugh was way – way better than Sosuke's, so it only made sense he was the one who laughed loudest…

Shinji arrived at his apartment, and was half way through unlocking the front door when he caught sight of a little note underneath the mat in Sosuke's elegant writing, drawing it up to him; he felt his lips twist into a smile.

I can't wait to see you

S

He groaned, rubbing a hand through his short hair, as he shut the door behind him and collapsed onto the cushy leather sofa. Shinji sighed heavily, sliding both feet onto the coffee table as he glanced down at the note again, re-reading it several times, before wrinkling his forehead, and tossing it aside.

Damn him…Damn him... Damn him


	29. Chapter 29

"You don't have the guts, Renji, give it up!"

"I-If you get caught Kisuke is going to kill you!"

Renji rolled his eyes and carefully opened his bedroom door. He made sure that he opened it slowly, so that it wouldn't creak or groan and alert his parents to what he was doing, and then poked his head out into the corridor and looked both ways. He was sure Ikkaku was behind him, muttering something like 'this ain't no damned road!' but he ignored it, because to get past Kisuke you needed all the concentration you could get. It didn't help that Izuru was practically hyperventilating as he hid behind the open door, or that Ikkaku was leaning so far into him that if they were naked they'd look like some sort of rude, Greek mosaic, but he couldn't help that. All he could do was stay calm and focus.

If he thought about it then his punishment hadn't been too bad this time. Kisuke had simply sent him to his room and grounded him, granted all his books and games and music had been removed, but at least he'd been allowed friends over and – providing that he behaved all week – to go to the beach party that weekend. It would be so much fun to get away from school, his siblings, and chores . . . so no way was he going to mess that up! It was just that it was so boring in his room. It didn't matter how many friends he had around, he still wanted to be out in the sun relaxing with Rukia, or fighting in the dojo with Ikkaku, or scaring the hell out of Kurosaki-san with that fake gun, because – let's face it – that had been a riot! It wasn't as much fun lurking around in a boring, old bedroom with just conversation and your homework, and most of all he was dying to see Uryu! He wanted to take the other boy out on a date, maybe to see a film or to get some fast food or to hang out in a pachinko parlour . . . If anything Kisuke was practically asking him to sneak out the house! No man could possibly expect Renji not to!

"Right," he mumbled quietly to his friends, "I'm going to sneak out through the front door, and once I'm outside I'll ring Ikkaku once on his phone, then Ikkaku will loudly be like 'oh, see ya later Renji, I got to go back to baby-sit Yachiru!' and that's when you both leave. Got it? I'll meet you about four houses down and then we can head to Rangiku's."

Izuru's eyes had became a little half-lidded and he had turned his gaze onto the floor, staring at it with a look that seemed a mixture of pissed off and helpless, like his usual 'I know that you guys are going to do something stupid, I know I can't stop you, and I know full well I'm going to hate what happens . . .' look. It was kind of intimidating in that an angry Kira was an unpredictable Kira, but kind of cute in that he looked pretty adorable all helpless and quiet. Poor kid was so easy to take advantage of really; after all you always knew he would say yes no matter what you asked! No wonder freaks like Ichimaru found him so easy to take advantage of, he really needed to grow a backbone.

"Are you sure this will work, Renji?" Izuru asked with a little confidence.

"Of course it will, listen!" Renji signalled for them to lean in closer, then waited until they were practically banging their heads against one another to speak, "That Hirako bloke spent the night here and since breakfast he's been arguing with Dad, so right now they'll be in the living room like 'you're such a whore, Shinji!' 'Oh, please don't hate me Oh Mighty Shopkeeper!' Then Tessai-Otousan will be like 'oh no, they're being left alone together, let me do random chores so I can watch them!' . . . spy, spy, spy . . . they start watching Tessai-Otousan and he starts watching them, I slip out and hey presto! They won't even notice I'm gone."

It should have been a giveaway that it perhaps wasn't such a great plan when Ikkaku seemed completely impressed, after all usually all of Ikkaku's great plans ended with hospital treatments or a hysterical Yumichika . . . meanwhile Izuru's face had gone from 'doubtful' to 'fearful'. His blond hair covered half his expression well, but it was hard to miss the nervous smile or twitching facial movements.

Renji just grunted and ignored the look. He loved Izuru to pieces but he wasn't going to pay attention to him, if they listened to all of his friend's worries they'd be living in a plastic bubble unable to play even a jigsaw in case the 'sharp' edges hurt them. He just worried way too much and was unable to take risks, he needed to loosen up and have some fun! That fun would start with sneaking out the house, having a few drinks, singing some karaoke, beating up some kids in the dojo, annoying Kurosaki, and then seeing where the night would take them. Kira would loosen up once he had a few drinks in his system, and then they could have some real fun. Hell, they could even invite Uryu along and convince him to drink a little, because it'd definitely be fun to see that guy let go!

He was aware that he was smiling a little manically at the thought of Uryu only when he caught his friends' expressions, which consisted of Ikkaku looking rather disgusted and Izuru looked somewhat frightened. They probably hadn't seen him looking so lovesick since Yumichika, and there was no way they'd expected his next romantic interest to be over the rather effeminate, geeky, bookworm named Ishida. True, it was a huge step up from the narcissistic, self-centred, cruel git Yumichika – no offence meant to Ikkaku, of course – but it was still an unexpected direction to take.

Renji didn't care though if Ishida didn't have that mainstream beauty, or if his interests were more geeky and into books and sewing than drinking and partying, and he didn't even care if the guy had weird issues with his father or proving himself to the world. To him Uryu was the guy that wouldn't get bored of him, who wouldn't stop halfway through sex to go to sleep or ignore his phone calls because he'd met someone better, he was an honest guy who'd never let him down and always tell him straightforward what was going on. He'd never have to worry what Uryu was thinking because he wasn't two-faced like that, he'd be honest and say 'leave me alone' or just tell him, none of that pussyfooting around stuff. That's what he needed. He needed someone loyal, honest and less wild. He needed that stability and calmness, that person to pull him back and make him a better person. That might have been weird considering he was still so young, but he didn't care, he didn't care because Uryu was special, he was someone worth changing for, and he wanted change for him. He wanted to be with Uryu. That didn't mean he would change who he was as a person, but he could certainly tone down his wilder aspects, couldn't he?

He sighed dreamily and then checked the corridor again, "Right, I'm going for it."

In one very, very slow movement he lifted his leg and aimed very precisely for the spot on the floorboards that didn't creak, lowering his leg expertly like a ninja as he held his breath, waiting for that moment of relief when no sound came and he knew he was on the right path. He was nearly there, nearly connecting with the floor, when the booming sound of his father's voice echoed from downstairs:

"Renji-kun, I hope you're not stepping foot outside your room!"

"Err – n-no, Dad! I was just . . . err . . . stretching my legs!"

Renji closed the door quickly shut and glared at Ikkaku who had burst out into laughter behind him, virtually rolling over as he found it hysterical how Kisuke knew his son so well that he knew – even to the second – when Renji would dare to try something stupid. Izuru simply let out a long sigh of breath and wandered his way across to the middle of the room, he crashed down onto one of the heavy throw pillows and made himself comfortable. Renji merely booted the door hard and followed Ikkaku over to the pillows and sat down too, mentally counting the ways he could possibly escape without his overly annoying father finding out.

"Ah, damn it Renji," Ikkaku laughed as he collapsed onto a pile of pillows, "and here I was thinking Zaraki-sensei was bad! You'd be better off in a prison!"

"Shut it, will ya?"

"Err, guys?" Kira said shakily . . .

There was a sudden silence as they looked at Kira then – in unison – all turned their heads to follow his gaze to the window, where a hand was waving at them, then began rapping on the window pane . . . It was kind of eerie, and poor Izuru looked white as a sheet and ready to collapse in fright, whilst Ikkaku was right away on the defensive, picking up his kendo stick and jumping into a crouching position.

Renji looked over suspiciously only to see Rukia's head pop up as she fiddled with the window, before sliding it upwards open and climbing inside, with Momo following behind her. It wasn't an unusual sight, Rukia always seemed to climb in through windows, especially at Ichigo's place, she'd been that way since they were kids and could climb trees better than all the lads in the orphanage. He was willing to bet that she'd probably climbed up onto the van parked outside and used that to climb in through the window, but he knew better than to try and use that as an escape route out . . . last time Kisuke had moved the van at the very last minute and put down a paddling pool filled with paint, which Renji had then unknowingly fell into. Kisuke had promised to keep letting Rukia in through that way, but threatened that next time they'd be itching powder added to the paint, and Renji could easily believe it.

Ikkaku groaned at the sight of the two girls and collapsed back down, whilst Izuru jumped up and greeted Momo enthusiastically and began gossiping with Rukia about the latest parties. It figured really, Izuru was practically a girl himself. Renji was grateful that his parents still allowed his friends to visit, but at the same time things felt rather dull . . . Kisuke had confiscated Ikkaku's alcohol – hidden in opaque cola bottles – and banned quite a few people from the house, including Uryu (for obvious reasons) and Ichigo temporally (for Grimmjow related ones). It just wasn't a great night unless there was booze and a large group of you! Still, it was better than nothing, and he was grateful to have his friends around . . . but it still would have been a lot better if Uryu had been there. He couldn't help but wonder what Uryu was doing.

"Yo! Renji! Stop being a brat and say hello!"

Renji blinked a few times and looked up at a glaring Rukia and giggling Momo, then sighed and waved his hand a few times to signal for them to sit down. "Sorry guys, why don't you sit down and join us? There's a tray of cakes and tea over there, Tessai-Otousan brought them up a while ago . . . just avoid all the biscuits, he kind of forgot which were meant for us and which for Hirako-san, and Hirako-san's were laced with laxatives."

"What!" Ikkaku called out, booting Renji hard in his side, causing the redhead to lose his breath. "Thanks for the warning, you punk-ass bastard! I've already eaten two of those!"

"Yeah, well, are you shitting blood? No. So no harm done, right?"

Rukia and Momo shared a subtle glance and sighed. Men . . . it made Rukia feel entirely grateful that she was dating Hanataro, because if she'd ended up with the likes of Renji she'd probably be miserable. They just seemed so violent and so angry all the time, competing like little kids over the most stupid of things, and no one ever really seemed to talk to one another. It was like how Renji had been furious with Ikkaku, well and truly upset, but did he say anything? Like hell he did, and yet here they were playing around like best friends, as if nothing had even happened!

It didn't make any sense to her. It made her wonder if her brother was right, if these friends really were a bad influence, but then if they were at least she recognised it and knew it for what it was. If anything she was the good influence. She was the one making sure that they didn't kill themselves over stupid stuff, even if it did mean risking her sanity on a few occasions.

"What exactly did you call us here for?" Rukia snapped as she glanced at her watch. "Orihime, Tatsuki and some others are meeting us at the mall in an hour, you said this was life and death important."

"Oh, it's . . . err . . . well you know how it is, right?"

"I swear, Renji, if this is something stupid I'm going to kill you!"

Renji coughed loudly, choking on the air itself. She was right; he had said it was important, hadn't he? It wasn't that it was life and death per se, it was just that . . . well . . . he'd been asked to do a favour for Ichigo and he wasn't sure he was able to do it, and Ichigo had been his best friend since what felt like forever and a day, and – at the time – it'd felt like a life or death situation. He'd been terrified of letting Ichigo down, but at the same time he just knew he couldn't do the favour either, and so he'd instinctively rang Rukia, the one mutual friend who'd know what to do and do it no matter what. She was loyal to a fault, kind and considerate to everyone, and – although it seemed like he was taking advantage – he'd asked for her help because he knew she'd give it.

The thing was that Grimmjow had planned this special weekend for Ichigo near the beach. All of Ichigo's friends and family would drive up to Aizen's beach-house (which Grimmjow had rented for the holiday) and spend Friday night to Monday morning there. From what Grimmjow had said most of the weekend for Ichigo and his nearest and dearest would be spent camping in the mountains, whilst those not so close to him would chill out at the beach-house, then Sunday day everyone would get together on the beach, relishing in the sand and surf. Renji didn't want to ask where the jerk got the money from, but seeing as how it was a Vizard who broke his arm and a Vizard who was dating Aizen it was easy to put two and two together . . .

So there Grimm was, booking this wonderful weekend camping holiday and beach trip, when he realised 'oh, I don't know any of Ichigo's pals', so he'd rang Renji and asked Renji to organise a guest list. He'd nearly flipped out when he'd been asked that! Grimmjow had beaten him to a pulp and now he wanted his help? Screw that! He'd been half-tempted to invite a butt-load of people Ichigo hated to blow things up in Grimmjow's face, but Ichigo was his friend . . . he didn't want to screw his friend over just to get back at that dick, it wasn't fair. The only solution he could find was to arrange things with Izuru and Rukia, using them both as a sounding board and to make sure his choices were good. Grimmjow hadn't given him a limit on how many people, the beach-house was practically a mansion, but only so many could go on the camping trip itself. His job was just to pick the beach-house invites, and Grimmjow would narrow it down when the time came.

The problem was that he knew Rukia probably wouldn't see this as being so important as he did. Sure she'd understand his desire to get revenge was conflicting with his desire to help, but her idea would just be 'suck it up and deal with it', and where that may have been a good plan in theory it just didn't work in practise. He hated Grimmjow, truly and utterly loathed him, and the very last thing he wanted to do was help the asshole.

It was Kira who broke the silence with a short little cough and an innocent smile, "We kind of need some help with the guest list for Ichigo's surprise party . . . Grimmjow only really knows Renji, so he thought that Renji would be able to invite all the right people, b-but we are kind of confused about just who to ask."

"You brought us here to help you out with a bunch of invites? Damn it, Renji! You know who all of Ichigo's friends are, you don't need us to help you with that!"

"Well," Kira continued for his friend, "we – we can invite as many people as we like, be-because they can stay at the beach-house, and Grimmjow will arrange the list for the camping trip himself . . . We will all meet at the beach-house on Friday, then Grimmjow will take Ichigo and some family and friends camping, then we'll meet on Sunday at the beach for a large party, then go home Monday morning . . ."

"And you need me why?"

"Be-because we don't know who to invite . . ."

Rukia sighed and hung her head. There was no point trying to reason with them, there never was, these boys were always the same and she just knew that if she saw the list so far it'd be a joke. She was just willing to bet the list would entirely comprise of 'Renji, Izuru, Ikkaku' – only because he was there with them so he would be hard to forget – 'and Rukia'.

She slid the paper over from in front of Izuru and looked down at it, and yes, she had been right . . . except Ikkaku had scribbled Yumichika's name down too, and each time Izuru had tried to write Ichimaru's Renji had crossed it off, and that was followed by a huge section of 'Ichimaru' 'Uryu' alternating with scribbles through each name. Damn it, they hadn't even put down phone numbers or addresses, and the party was in a week's time. It wasn't fair. Renji knew that Rukia loved him and Ichigo to pieces, and that if either one of them needed her she'd support them fully, so just how was she supposed to say no to this? Oh, and it'd be up to her too to find everyone's contact details, because boys being boys would only say 'huh, we don't have Keigo's number, we can't invite him', and no one would think of asking Mizuho or Tatsuki! She shot a death glare to Renji and then snatched the pen from in front of Ikkaku, turned over the piece of paper and jotted down the names of everyone in the room, and used her phone to write down their numbers. Then gave Renji another 'you owe me' glance and continued.

"Okay, so we'll have to invite Keigo, Mizuho, Orihime and Tatsuki, because they've been his friends since he was a child," Rukia said, writing down their names, "then there's Chad and Uryu, obviously."

"Hey!" Ikkaku snapped, hitting the list hard with his kendo stick. "You can't leave out Yumi from the list, that's not fair!"

"Yumichika isn't friends with Ichigo!"

"Yeah, but if Renji gets to bring his boyfriend, then so do I!"

"No! If we invite Ayasegawa-san then we'd have to invite Ichimaru-sensei too, and no one wants him there!"

"I do," Kira said sheepishly.

Rukia growled under her breath and clenched her pen tightly. This was supposed to be Ichigo's party and these idiots were making it all about themselves! Still, she supposed they could use Ichimaru and Yumichika to transport some of the guests, after all they both had cars and licenses, so they could use them to car pool. That seemed fair. Right, so fine, they could go on the damned, stupid list. They'd only be stuck in the beach house all weekend whilst Ichigo went camping anyway, he wouldn't even know they were there, and if he did see them on Sunday she could just lie and say 'oh, they really care about you and wanted to be here too!' Still, it'd just be so much easier if these idiots just grew up.

"Okay, Ichimaru-sensei and Ayasegawa can come, but they have to give lifts to those people invited who don't drive! It's only fair," she glared at Ikkaku as she said this, daring him to disagree. "So then we have to invite Hanataro and Ganju, because they're close with Ichigo too. Oh, and Hirako-san and Urahara-san –"

"No way!" Renji screamed. "I'm not having my dad at the party! That'd just be so humiliating and –"

"Urahara-san is Ichigo's friend, so just suck it up, Renji! Besides, if he brings Jinta and Ururu then they can keep Karin, Yuzu and Toshiro company."

"You're inviting Toshiro too?"

"Well, we can't invite Momo but not invite her cousin," Rukia said slowly, thinking things over. "So we should invite Rangiku-san too, because she's Toshiro's guardian, and maybe we should invite Aizen-sama too because he was kind enough to let Grimmjow use his beach-house."

The moment Rukia said the name Renji knew what was coming . . . Momo had an undying love for Aizen since she first saw his photograph in a magazine, and she was desperate to work for his law-firm once she'd finished university, although she was hoping to get in as his personal assistant once high school was over. Already she'd clasped her hands together and was looking pleadingly at Renji, her dark eyes large and wide, gazing at him with complete love and admiration. There was a faint blush to her cheeks and she was making a little whining noise in her throat, like she really couldn't contain her excitement.

Rukia was just gazing away to one side, probably thankful that Momo wasn't squealing or screaming, and hoping to God that Renji would just accept it, because the moment he said 'no' or questioned it Momo would flip out. It amused him how Izuru had an 'oh boy' look on his face as he looked away too, like it was so stupid to be so obsessed over one man, and it was so hypocritical considering Gin was literally his reason for living . . . as far as he knew he'd stuck Gin's number on his phone as 'Mizuho' and convinced the young boy to lie for him should he ever get questioned. That way his parents wouldn't realise that the fifty texts a day were to his boyfriend, not his friend. He'd thought that Momo had been obsessive in writing to Aizen at least once a week, but she had nothing on Izuru! Renji was still debating whether to tell Rukia to stuff that suggestion or not when Ikkaku nudged him hard in his ribs, and judging from the look on Ikkaku's face even he didn't think it was worth the hassle. He took a deep breath and shrugged.

"Yeah, sure," he conceded.

"Great!" Rukia chirped. "So now we have Keigo, Mizuho, Orihime, Chad, Uryu, Renji, Ikkaku, Yumichika, Hanataro, Ganju and myself," she furrowed her eyebrows as she realised the list was getting a little extensive, "Kira and Gin, Momo, Toshiro, Rangiku-san, Hirako-san and Aizen-sama, Urahara-san, Tessai-san, Jinta, Ururu . . . Then Ichigo's dad and two sisters . . . So that's –" she quickly did the math in her head "– twenty-five people! Twenty-seven with Ichigo and Grimmjow!"

"Oh!" Renji jumped up as he realised something. "You forgot Nelliel, Grimmjow's little sister! Hey, she'll probably need some friends to play with too."

"Well," Kira said, curling into himself as everyone stared at him, waiting to hear what he would say, "I know a friend of Gin's who has a little boy, he plays with Nel all the time. I could invite him and his parents."

Rukia shook her head and slid the paper over to Izuru who wrote down the details.

"Oh! What about Sensei's daughter?" Ikkaku offered. "Pass that here, Izuru, I'll write down Zaraki-sensei's details too."

"So now we have thirty-three people?" Rukia asked.

Ikkaku slid back the paper over to her as she began wondering who to cut from the list. Weren't Ichimaru, Tousen and Aizen in charge of Grimmjow's place of work? Would he really want them there? Then Karin, Yuzu, Toshiro, Jinta, Ururu, Yachiru, Nelliel and Wonderweiss, all together, on a beach with sugary snacks and hot weather . . . It wasn't that she disliked children, but would Ichigo really be happy coming down onto the beach after camping for a few nights and being ambushed by a gaggle of children? She certainly wouldn't. Then there was the fact Ganju and Yumichika hated one another, that Uryu and Renji would be kept apart by Kisuke, that she was pretty sure – from what her brother said – that Zaraki and Tousen despised one another as well . . .

Wait! Grimmjow had said to invite as many people as they wanted, but did he realise just how many friends Ichigo had? Maybe he just wanted a quiet weekend away with his boyfriend and some close relatives, he couldn't possibly expect a small army to arrive! It would be such a shame if they were actually spoiling a romantic getaway or something. Then again how often was it that they all got together? Aizen's holiday home was guaranteed to be at least the same size as her brother's holiday homes too, because they both earned similar amounts, so as long as a few people were willing to share a room as a group they'd be okay, right? There had to be around ten bedrooms at least, which would mean around three-four people in a room and . . . oh dear. They would be practically camping out themselves at this rate, unless maybe they invited onii-sama or Lady Yoruichi – she was certain they both had holiday homes in the area too! Byakuya's was only six miles down the same stretch of beach, and Yoruichi's was next door to Aizen's. She knew because Byakuya and Lady Yoruichi had brought their houses always purposely near one another, for safety and companionship, and Aizen had purposely brought houses near the two to annoy them and flaunt his wealth. Three houses should be enough for so many guests, right?

"We should invite onii-sama and Lady Yoruichi too," she said in a rather solemn voice, "that way we can use their holiday homes in the area too, and then we know everyone will have a place to sleep."

Renji scoffed loudly, "Yeah? Your brother won't let my family stay with him, so whilst Uryu is living it up with Kuchiki-sama I'm going to be tormented over at Yoruichi's! Its like Romeo and Juliet! Are you trying to keep us apart?"

"Look, it's the best I can do!" Rukia shouted. "So that's thirty-five people, and we will have to invite Ishida-san, Soi Fon and Nemu too in that case . . . Oh! Then Ukitake-sensei is great friends with Ichigo, so then we'd need Kyoraku-sensei and we can't really ignore Unohana-sensei in that case . . . Do you think Kukaku Shiba would want to come too?"

"So that's . . . forty-one people?"

"Forty-two," Ikkaku chimed in. "Your counting sucks, Abarai."

"It'll be fine!" Rukia said cheerfully, "Maybe we can round it up to a round fifty?"

Renji glanced down at the list and felt a little bead of sweat form at his forehead. It seemed a little too much, but he trusted Rukia's judgement and Grimmjow had said to invite as many of Ichigo's friends and family as they liked, and if it was too much wouldn't Rukia had stopped them and made them narrow the list down? Great, now Rukia and Izuru were getting extra sheets of papers with 'Kuchiki' 'Shihoin' and 'Aizen' written at the top of each, subdividing those into how many rooms each house had and who was staying where!

Seriously, when you needed to borrow two extra mansions and plan out a room chart didn't that mean you'd gone overboard somewhere? Maybe it was because Izuru's parents were quite wealthy, or that Rukia was practically nobility, but they didn't seem the least bit phased at all. Momo was there wide-eyed and blinking a lot, Ikkaku seemingly drooling at the prospect of having more money than sense, and Renji couldn't even picture that much space or that many people. All he caught was little snippets like 'oh, well the Urahara family would have to stay with Shihoin' and 'no way, Tousen and Zaraki would kill each other!', and the best one was 'fine, if you want to stick Nelliel and Yachiru that close together then you sleep next door to them!' He noted how – in a very strange occurrence – Ichigo and Grimmjow's room was in Byakuya's house, with all the respectful and quiet guests, whilst Ichigo's father was apparently babysitting Nelliel over in one of the other houses. It was pretty mind-blowing and no way was he getting involved in this planning process, as far as he was concerned his job was simply sending out invites over the phone with Ikkaku and that was it. Grimmjow was going to die when all these people showed up, that was for sure . . . crap! That would be after he killed Renji of course.

"– really going to do that? Wouldn't Zaraki-sensei want to sleep in Kuchiki-sama's room, Rukia?"

"Huh?" Rukia asked.

Renji jumped out of his thoughts to see the lists almost complete except for Zaraki and one or two others, every other name was crossed off and in their allocated 'room', and Ikkaku and Momo were busy dialling numbers (although ten-thousand yen said that Momo would be calling Aizen's). Kira was just looking blankly at Rukia as she stared at him wide-eyed and confused.

"Why would Zaraki-sensei sleep there? Onii-sama is bound to come, so he'd be sleeping in his bedroom. It wouldn't be proper for another man to share the master bedroom with the host."

"But aren't they dating? It was all anyone spoke about at Aizen-sama's last party, Hisagi-san was even gossiping about it over dinner last night with my parents. Rumour has it that Matsumoto-san caught them at it in the dojo last week, and everyone knows that Abarai-kun caught them kissing a fortnight ago whilst he was doing some part-time work for Kuchiki-sama."

"What?"

Uh-oh! Renji flung himself over the cushions and dashed for the door, he was already halfway down the stairs when he heard Rukia screaming loudly after him, and she was a fast runner too, she was already on his tail! There was no way in hell he was slowing down for even a second, and his parents would forgive him providing he ran to Yoruichi's or something, somewhere safe that was fun-free. He'd call them and ask for forgiveness and they'd understand, seeing as it was being grounded or being killed by Rukia.

"Renji! Get back here!"

He would have gotten away too . . . if Jinta hadn't tripped him up on the bottom step.

That bastard.

Tousen listened carefully to the sounds around him.

Aizen's home was startlingly quiet aside from the occasional beeps of his answering machine, followed by the slightly strained voice of Kisuke speaking on behalf of one Hirako-san. These messages were interspersed with slightly angrier tones of Hiyori and Shinji himself, and neither had very positive things to say, it would probably do nothing but amuse Aizen-sama, but these messages needed addressing. They were disheartening and could not be good for Gin to hear. The young man needed stability right now, and a healthy example of what a relationship should be, he was already on a dangerously unsteady path and it would not do him well to be around such hostility. He may wear a smile, but that did not fool Kaname.

He could not see such superficial things; he could not tell whether Gin smiled or not, he could not tell what colours the man wore, or what mannerisms he had, but he could always hear that bitter edge to his voice, that scornful mocking that bled into most of his sentences. It seemed as if the younger man was never happy, never content, and the way he teased and joked seemed to confirm that, as if he could only be happy by making others miserable.

Gin often described himself as a snake, a cold being with no concern over whom he hurt, but Kaname doubted that. There were times when he could be exceedingly thoughtful or patient, often without consciously doing so, and times when he would appear genuinely hurt by what others had said to him or by the actions he chose to take. It was clear that the man had a soul, that he felt things as acutely as the rest of them, if not then more so, but why he chose to act so cold and aloof Kaname could not understand. If he would only open up in the manner that his friends and co-worked could then he would not be in such a predicament, he would have been able to discuss his problems without having to resort to apparent starvation. It was not something that Kaname could understand, especially when Gin was still lying to Kira about the severity of his problems. He worried on behalf of the blond for when he would find out the truth.

Outside he could hear Aizen's chauffer preparing the car, and Gin shuffling to and fro on the other side of the room. Kaname was sitting across the room, typing upon a specially designed laptop, and listening carefully for the click of the keys and the sounds in his left earpiece. There was a sudden rustle from by Gin then warmth on his hand, it felt as if the younger man had opened the curtains, and it was a very sunny day outside. There was then a shuffling of paper and a heavy thud upon what sounded like the sofa, evidently Gin was sitting down and – by the sound of the scratching – was attempting to write something.

"Yo, Kaname," Gin asked a little too casually for Tousen's liking. "What's the kanji for 'pizza'?"

Kaname froze for a moment in his paperwork and listed across the room. The sound of writing had stopped but there was a rhythmic tapping on pen on paper as Gin waited. He tried to quickly work out why Gin would wish to know such a thing, but gave up after a few seconds, after all with Gin it was hard telling even the simplest of things as his motivations could be so complex. He turned back to his computer and resumed typing.

"I cannot read kanji Gin, I am blind," he said calmly. "I would hazard a guess that it has no kanji however, and recommend you to use katakana. Why do you ask?"

"Ja, well Unohana-sensei wants me t' keep a food diary, so I'm writing down that I had pizza for breakfast."

"Are you aware of how many calories pizza has, Gin?"

"Yeah, I know what ya thinkin'," Gin said in a rather singsong voice. "You think it ain't realistic 'cause why would an anorexic man eat something so fattening? Well I figured I'll say I had Aizen's leftovers from last night, and 'cause it's fattening she won't question why I ain't eaten for the rest o' today. Smart, ain't I?"

"I believe that a food diary fails to work the moment you lie."

"Yeah, well shows what you know, don't it?"

It was clear that Gin had normalised his behaviour and saw no harm in it. It would be a very hard challenge for Unohana to convince the silver-haired man that he had a problem, and he knew that treatment could not truly begin until Gin accepted his issues and found the courage to address them head on. It would be difficult but it needed to be done, if they left this too long then he would be in serious danger, and it was likely Unohana and Aizen would see fit to hospitalise him for treatment. Gin was playing a dangerous game if he wanted to keep his freedom, and he would do better to comply with Unohana rather than fight her. Doctors were very dangerous people to cross, but Unohana was perhaps one of the worst.

Kaname sighed and closed his laptop carefully and rubbed between his eyes. The Arrancar had been behaving quite well recently, especially – and most suspiciously – the Espada law firm, and what with Wonderweiss at school and Sajin at work his day was reduced to paperwork and chaperoning Gin. Gin's life consisted of trying to break away from Unohana's therapy and seducing Kira, and Aizen was preoccupied with work, neither one seemed to notice a quite severe problem building right under their noses, and it was time to do something about it.

"Gin, I believe we have a problem."

"Ja! I'm eatin', I'm eatin'," Gin whined.

Kaname listened to the sound of rustling and then a hard crunching sound, that made it clear Gin was either eating something or pretending to at least eat something. When he spoke next his voice was muffled and stifled, and it seemed as if he was eating after all, a good sign if not a very juvenile one.

"Ya think I should add this on ma list?"

"I was not referring to your eating disorder. I was referring to Aizen-sama and Hirako-san, if things escalate further we may find ourselves in a very dangerous predicament, we may lose profit on Arrancar."

"Eh? How'd ya work that out?"

Kaname stood slowly from his seat and reached beside him for his workbag, and carefully placed away his Braille paperwork and laptop, purposely staying quiet as Gin worked himself up in anticipation.

He knew well that his silences annoyed Gin and aggravated him, but in all honesty that was part of the pleasure, however his main reason for such quiet moments was to teach Gin the value of language and give him time to think. Gin was highly intelligent and could communicate very well, he could use his words to run around people, manipulate them into believing what he wanted them to believe, and distract them from important tasks. The quiet threw him off, prevented him from taking control of the conversation, and allowed Kaname the vital moments he needed to plan ahead and express himself to Gin in a way he would appreciate.

After a few more seconds he walked across the room and waited by the door for Gin. The younger man eventually stood up and fished around for his papers, the rustling sounded quite loud and sporadic, it was possible that Gin had been planning some presentations and lectures for Aizen this morning before Kaname had arrived, and hence lost his diary for Unohana amongst his work. It was unusual, Gin tended to shake off all paperwork whenever possible, but if he was for once working then Kaname would not be the one to question it. He waited for the younger man to join him by his side, the sound of an engine outside stopped outside the house, and it was obvious that the car was waiting for them. What time was it now? He could only hope that they would be punctual for Gin's appointment.

"Aizen-sama's behaviour has greatly riled Hirako-san," Kaname said as Gin fussed about beside him, "and last night Hirako-san retired to Urahara-san's residence. It is public knowledge that they are dating, and my sources recently tell me that the Vizards have taken objection to the relationship, and as you will remember they own one of the largest publishing businesses in the world, they even release their magazines in over one-hundred-and-six countries."

"Yeah? What's ya point, Kaname?"

"All it takes is one small sentence in a gossip column, one carefully worded paragraph in the news section, and it could cost Arrancar a lot of business. There are some smart Vizards on staff, some which would know what facts to publish to avoid a lawsuit but still install a sense of distrust or scandal in the community. We need to avoid this; it would be best to create an amiable between Aizen-sama and Hirako-san. There is a holiday this weekend, is there not, in which Hirako-san and ourselves are invited?"

There was a long pause in which Gin seemed to be considering what had been said.

In honesty he'd been planning on declining the invitation on the basis that he wouldn't be allowed to spend time with his boyfriend, what with so many witnesses and adults around to report back to Kira's parents, and frankly unless his little Izuru-chan was there then there wasn't any point in going. Still, it sounded as if Kaname had a plan of sorts and that man had a dangerous mind, anything he could come up with would have to be damned good and interesting. He might be bored for a whole weekend, but it'd be worth it to see what Kaname did.

"Yeah, it don't sound like too much fun though . . ."

"Perhaps you would be more amused at the prospect if I were to tell you that I have a plan, Gin? I believe that if we secure Hirako-san and Aizen-sama in a room together we could organise an intervention, it may help cease hostilities and protect both the Arrancar company and the Vizard company."

"Ya wan' t' get a bunch of us in a room to ambush Aizen and Hirako-san? It ain't goin' t' work, and how ya goin' t' manage it anyway?"

"You shall have to wait and see," Kaname replied suspiciously.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty-One

By Robin

Aizen stretched his legs and smiled as he gazed out of the limousine window.

It was certainly a luxurious vehicle, and customised to his liking. The windows were of course tinted to avoid casual glances or looks, and it was smaller than usual so as to accommodate perhaps around five or six comfortably, but no more. Aizen enjoyed riding in luxury, it was comfortable and allowed him to flaunt the wealth he had worked so hard to acquire, and he truly felt like the leader he was born to be.

He enjoyed the fact that he could ride in such lavishness, he enjoyed the fact that it was one more thing to separate him from his men, creating a visual border between the superiors and subordinates, reminding his men of their place beneath him both socially and financially. It was not gloating per se, as others had accused him of in the past, but merely a willingness to accept his role as the man in charge and act according to his position. Why should he, after all, drive in a sports car or a convertible or even a mini when he had worked hard to acquire the money needed for a limousine? Would a king ride by horse-and-cart? Would am emperor travel by taxicab? No, and neither would Aizen Sosuke. It was for that reason he had customised his travel to suit him in all ways.

There were two black cars following them, obviously security, one just ahead and one just behind, along with cars of regular and casual appearance so as to avoid looking like part of their entourage. The limousine was smaller to suit this. A larger vehicle would make security rather difficult, and besides there was an intimacy with smaller vehicles that large modes of transport lacked. Here he could look his men in the face and talk to them as individuals, he enjoyed that, and he enjoyed the power that came from it. These were his men and this was his car, and he was the director of the scene, the writer of the script, and he was in control.

Of course . . . he had not planned for his subordinates' arrival.

That had been unexpected. He would not admit to the feeling of surprise though, simply because that would mean he had failed to plan accordingly and lost some of the control he had accumulated over the years. So instead he merely accepted the strange turn of events with an indifferent willingness, and tried to shape them to his liking, turning the surprise to his advantage. He had embraced his guests' attendance, tried to steer the conversation, and welcomed any new changes as a way of learning new things and enhancing his current level of knowledge. It had merely been a shame that things never seemed to go according to plan as far as his two closest employees were concerned. He knew that Tousen was somewhat easy to manipulate, and that Gin was certainly one to watch out for, but that said events involving the two seemed to end in unexpected ways . . .

One could always expect the unexpected, but at the same time the unexpected by nature left one always with a minor element of surprise. He knew one day Tousen would leave him, that Gin would betray him, but he also knew he would still feel a minimal amount of shock nonetheless when these things occurred, until then he would simply have to endure their rather . . . unique surprises on an almost daily basis.

He had received a phone call from Tousen earlier that day. The blind man had confirmed arrangements for Aizen's vehicle and chauffer, stating that Ulquiorra would not chauffer due to a conflicting schedule but that Nnoitra could assume the role easily enough. That was followed by how Jeagerjaques and Kurosaki had already arrived safely at the holiday home, how Komamura-san had kindly offered to baby-sit Nelliel for the duration of the weekend, and how Szayel seemed to be coping better in the work environment, and did Aizen-sama realise Ichimaru would be riding to the beach with Kira?

Aizen had immediately phoned Gin and told him to make alternate arrangements, it simply would not do to ride with Kira, if they were seen the consequences could be disastrous.

That had unfortunately resulted in being forced to share his limousine with Tousen and Gin, being that Gin had taken upon himself to invite himself along with Tousen, on the assumption that if Aizen had not wanted him to travel with Kira it was obviously because he wanted them to travel with him instead. Aizen had not been in any mood to argue with his friend and colleague, and so allowed him to ride in the limousine also. He very much regretted his decision.

Luckily the soundproof window had been rolled up between their seats and the driver, because he was certain he did not want a lowly employee such as Nnoitra hearing their inane conversations . . .

"Ah, look here, Aizen-sama!" Gin said, turning his mobile phone around to show the brunet. "Says that Ukitake-san has fully recovered! Ain't that good news? Bet ya can use that in yer lawsuit right?"

"Perhaps, Gin," Tousen said a little forcefully, his hands moving over the Braille of his book, "you should be texting Unohana-sensei as opposed to old colleagues, after all your personal health is much more important to us than any work commitments. You will be spending a weekend away without your therapy sessions, the condition of that was that you ring Unohana and talk to her on a regular basis."

"Ah, ya too much of a worrywart, Tousen-san! Ya know full well I'm fine."

"I see," Tousen said a little coldly.

Aizen drew in a deep – but silent – breath and watched his two subordinates from the corner of his eye. Gin had dressed in smart, black, form-fitting trousers and a tight, white shirt, something that seemed to say the silver-haired man had nothing to hide, that he was perfectly content wearing such figure revealing clothing because he knew – or at least believed – he was back to full health.

It would have spoken volumes about Gin's progress, however the coat he wore was long, white, far too large, and reached the backs of his knees, hiding his entire body from sight. He clearly sought to try and assure people he was fine, but at the same time knew he was not, forced to hide his body behind ridiculously large clothing. All the while he wore a bright smile and grinned almost manically, as if he thought a happy disposition automatically equalled a happy heart. It was possible that soon enough Kira would notice this behaviour, that he would help Gin in a way that Aizen himself could not, and he truly hoped this was the case, because – if things grew worse – he would lose Gin to Unohana as he became hospitalised, and he could not afford to lose his right-hand man.

Meanwhile Tousen sat to Gin's left side, dressed in a highly fashionable ensemble that rivalled Gin's permanent casual and somewhat shabby look. He had let his hair down and tied some beads into some of his locks, his glasses were semi-opaque and of the latest style, and his leather jacket was loose but still gave a shape to his form that made him seem highly attractive. He was calmly reading a book with one hand and reaching into his bag beside him with his other. There was a clacking sound followed by a sweet aroma, and Tousen retrieved a wrapped sandwich from his bag, handing it across to Gin without even deigning to glance in his direction.

"I am glad you are fine, Gin," Tousen said indifferently. "Wonderweiss was helping Sajin this morning make my lunch, and he got a little carried away, it was his first time making something all on his own with minimal supervision." His face sparkled with a faint smile. "It was very sweet, and he did an excellent job, sadly I do not think I can eat it all before it will go off. Please, allow me to share with you."

Although Tousen could not see the look on Gin's face, Aizen could. His 'adoptive' son was looking at the sandwich with an expression of complete contempt and disgust, his smile curling somewhat into a half-snarl, whilst his eyes glared holes into Tousen's face. He was clearly pissed, and despite his wide smile he was not hiding it well from the older man.

"Nah," Gin eventually replied, "Yer forgetting I've met that kid o' yours. I don't trust him not to drool over everything, ya know? I don't wan' t' catch anythin', kids today are just full o' diseases, let alone ones that play with those two dogs –! Ah, sorry, my mistake, that one dog . . . I forget ya only got one. I wonder why I thought yer had two? The only other livin' thing in ya house is Komamura-san . . . an' he's not remotely dog-like, is he?"

Tousen's eye twitched and he smiled bitterly, putting the sandwich away. This time Gin's smile was sincere and warm, although it was quickly replaced with a confused half-grin and half-frown when Tousen pulled out a large can . . .

"I understand; many people have a phobia of germs. Would you perhaps like some soup instead? I made it myself. There is no chance of there being drool or dog hairs in it, I assure you. I will even have some myself if it make you feel better, Gin."

"Ja, I don't like you."

Ah, this would certainly be a long trip indeed . . .

Aizen bit the inside of his cheek as he kept up his eternal smile, watching the blurring landscape outside with a sense of detachment. It was indeed very clear that Gin had a problem, Tousen had certainly shown that, but he was not certain whether Tousen's actions could be considered ethical or not. It seemed somewhat cruel to taint Gin with food merely to prove that something was very much amiss.

He could certainly understand why the darker man had done that, and he was pleased that his subordinate had such a strong sense of justice and equality that he would try to help Gin, despite the silver-haired man's childish comments. It was merely that Gin was not a person to push. It was true that with some people pushing them and pushing them could work, such as with the Kurosaki boy who had the type of personality that when he was backed against a wall he would come out fighting, almost as if he had some innate instinct to prove himself and make things right, no matter what. He would see that the problem lay within and would change himself to fix things.

Gin, however, was a man that would let things fester and seethe inside him, he saw no desire to fight a problem or to fix it, instead he merely sought to get revenge against those who he saw as standing in his way. Gin did not see his eating disorder as a problem, and so – being backed against a wall – he merely saw Tousen as the problem and would seek revenge against him, which would escalate into yet another battle of practical jokes and snide insults. It would only add to Aizen's stress.

He already had to endure what would be a frustrating attempt at fixing relations between Arrancar and Vizard, hence his reason for going to the beach-house also. It seemed that the two Arrancars at the beach had not alerted Shinji to this, knowing he would most certainly have refused to go if it involved trying to be civil to Sosuke and building bridges. At the same time Grimmjow had rented the use of the beach-house for some of his friends to use for his planned holiday, and that meant having to endure the presence of a multitude of teenagers. Of course Ishida, Yamada and Kuchiki would always be welcome, but there was a very deep-seated hate between the Shiba clan and the Aizen family, and he could only imagine what lies Shiba Ganju had told his sister in order to go to the beach. Kira had lied also.

He was allowed to stay at Aizen's home as Aizen was most respectable, and Kira's family adored Matsumoto and Hisagi . . . amusingly Kira had neglected to tell them his two friends would be staying at the Shihoin home, whilst Gin stayed in the same house as adorable Kira-kun. Gin had decided to 'share' his room with Tousen, and then sneak out each night to Kira's room one floor below, meaning that – if questioned – Kira could lie and say that Gin and himself had separate rooms, something that only the two of them, Tousen and Aizen would know to be untrue.

"Ah, I got a text from Kuchiki-san! Ain't that nice?" Gin said, breaking Aizen out of his thoughts. "Says he's just came public about his relationship with Zaraki-san, but his grandpa ain't keen on it at all, and Rukia-chan is fumin'!"

Tousen jerked his head upright and paused in his reading. "What is a man as refined as Kuchiki Byakuya doing with a brute like Zaraki-sensei?"

"Who knows? Ya know what they say about opposites attracting though."

"I suppose that explains what an innocent boy like Kira-kun sees in a man like you."

"Eh, yer think we're that different? Nah! We're perfect for one another! He's so masochistic, ya know? He likes it when ya talk rough to him, and loves all these little games that even make me blush! Ya can do what ya want to him and he doesn't even object! Ja . . . got t' be careful though, he bruises like a peach, he's still got the teeth marks on his stomach to prove it."

Tousen frowned and closed his book with a solid bang.

He never had agreed with Gin's relationship with Kira, and Aizen knew he despised hearing details. The blind man knew that their relationship was now legal, but he saw Kira as too young and naïve, blinded by first love and unable to see Gin for what he truly was. Even if Kira was more mature he did not believe for an instant that the blond boy could help Gin with his problems, and if anything he would merely make Gin's eating disorder worse, as Gin fought to compete with Izuru's naturally lower weight and look good for his lover. Gin was his teacher. He was merely using and abusing his old student, manipulating him and his feelings . . .

Tousen slipped his book into his bag and then removed his bento-box. The lacquered surface sat on his lap as he felt around the contents, the can of soup splashed a little in his bag beside his book, and he could hear a rattling of marbles that Wonderweiss had put in his side-pocket to keep his father from getting bored. He smiled at the thought of his son and then felt around for a small item.

They had been teaching Wonderweiss to cook for himself recently. They had reasoned that their son needed to learn valuable key life skills as early as possible, so that as he grew older he would be able to look after himself, after all he would not be a child forever. Luckily Wonderweiss had picked the skill up quickly, seemingly inheriting a talent for cookery from his blind father, perhaps from watching him cook huge and elaborate meals over the years. The blond boy needed silence to concentrate, but managed to follow instructions perfectly. He mostly made sandwiches, but they had taught him to make cakes, brownies and cookies too, hoping that fun and sweet recipes would ease him into an otherwise arduous task. Just last night he had made a wonderful chocolate-chip muffin for his father's trip.

"This is for you, Gin," Tousen said, handing over the foiled muffin to his colleague. "Do not worry. Wonderweiss made it, but I made sure it was healthy and low fat for you; we did not use milk, butter, sugar, wheat, gluten or real chocolate. It is no different to those tasteless muffins people buy when on a diet. It was made especially for you; we did add some vitamins to it to help you however."

"Ja? Really? Thanks, Kaname!"

Tousen smiled warmly to himself. He reached into his lunchbox and began to eat upon one of the many, many sandwiches as he listened to the sounds of foil being unfolded and then the muffin being devoured.

It took Gin a very long time to eat, in which time Tousen had already consumed two cheese and tomato sandwiches, one rice-ball and some steamed fish, but when Gin was done he seemed very happy at finally being able to eat something so delicious but without the remotest sign of a calorie. This cemented the belief in Aizen's mind that his colleague had a problem, especially if he would not eat anything otherwise. Eventually Tousen put his bento-box away and retrieved the soup, relishing in its steamy aroma as he poured two cups, one for himself and one for Aizen.

"I'm sorry, Gin," he said after a long while.

"Eh, what for?"

"You are not the only one who can lie. That muffin had all the ingredients I mentioned, including full-fat milk, butter and extra sugar. You have just eaten what is essentially a very normal muffin."

Aizen sipped his soup with a low sigh. It had a delicious taste but it was somewhat spoiled by how green Gin's face had become, how his hands shook and how his smile had finally worked its way away from his face. He was clearly feeling extremely sick, and he looked so poorly that Aizen was sure they would need to stop the car. Tousen merely handed Gin a sick-bag with a dangerous smile, one that Gin accepted without so much as a glare or snide remark.

"I think I'm goin' t' throw up, Aizen-sama . . ."

Aizen winced at the sound that followed. This was going to be a very long trip . . .

"Aw, hey! I got a text!"

Kisuke watched as Renji fumbled around frantically for his phone.

He'd been edgy and jumpy for the entire ride so far; each time his phone made the slightest noise he seemed to dive for it in the same way Aizen dived towards the smell of a lawsuit, and each time he read a message he would smile manically or blush cutely. When Kisuke had asked the redhead about it he'd just stumbled with his words and became rather nervous, saying 'ah, it's nothing, really! Just Ichigo complaining again', or weirder than that 'just Tessai-Otousan making sure we're okay'.

What Kisuke wanted to say in response was that if Renji was blushing and smiling at the thought of his taken friend, or his own father, that he needed serious counselling, but instead he kept quiet. Renji was pretty much an open-book with his emotions, and Kisuke had been young once. He knew what it was like to get hot and flustered over a new boyfriend, or how your stomach felt like it had butterflies at the very thought of your 'soulmate', and Renji was showing all the symptoms! He was such an obvious kid, but at the same time he was very guarded and easily embarrassed, if Kisuke were to mention his little crush then Renji would no doubt freak out and deny the whole thing, determined to make it seem like he wasn't texting Uryu all day at all. It wasn't that he thought Kisuke would mind, but he knew full well Ishida-san had forbidden Uryu from dating Renji, and he didn't want Uryu to getting into any trouble, it was best to keep it secret until Uryu was ready to face his father.

That wasn't to say Kisuke condoned the relationship, but he tolerated its existence nonetheless. He liked Uryu, he was a cute kid and highly intelligent too, he had the most amazing skills too, able to sew and craft in ways that had to be seen to be believed, and – honestly – he reminded Kisuke a lot of Tessai, which was probably why Kisuke found himself approving of Renji's choice. The only reason he didn't approve was because one of his best friend's – Uryu's dad – had forbidden the relationship, and he couldn't exactly say to Renji 'go ahead!' in the face of things, which is probably why Renji was determined to keep it secret . . .

Renji flipped open his phone and a light blush graced his features as he rapidly clicked buttons then read his message, he didn't even look up as Yoruichi's phone beeped too. She was sitting next to Renji on the back passenger seat, with Kisuke opposite her, and Shinji in the front passenger seat next to Soi Fon – the driver. They'd opted for taking the mini-van in the end, much to Renji's disgust.

"Oh, wow, it's from . . . Yumichika!"

Kisuke rolled his eyes, in the course of an hour Renji had 'texts' from everyone he knew except from Uryu, and he was obviously running out of people to think of if Yumichika was the only person left he could think of.

Shinji's phone suddenly went off at the front of the car. Aizen's voice rang out of the device saying loudly as a ring-tone, so that the entire car could hear, 'I have taken the opportunity to remove the vibrating feature from your phone, Hirako-san. I know you must miss me, but you're unfortunate habit of wearing your phone in your front trouser pocket disconcerts me, please forgive my actions.' Shinji went bright red and insisted that he had no idea how Aizen had been able to tamper with his phone, changed the settings at once, and then exclaimed in surprise he had a text message.

It was extremely frustrating that Shinji could be so naïve as to trust Aizen, and this was the perfect example of that. Yoruichi merely laughed loudly as Kisuke sighed and shook his head, Renji was red as a strawberry and stammering for something to say, and Soi Fon – in her prudish, virginal way – was so angry at the set text-tone that she grabbed the phone from Shinji and threw backwards. It hit the floor hard and skidded over to Yoruichi's feet, where she picked it up and began to look through Shinji's messages, at which point – even more annoyingly – Renji's phone went off again.

Kisuke's phone went off too, as did Soi Fon's, but before he could check his phone Yoruichi was opposite him fiddling with her halter-top, her breasts jiggling right in front of his eyes almost hypnotically . . .

"Oh, don't you just hate it when the knot comes loose?" she said, undoing the knot at the back of her neck. "Close your eyes, Renji-kun, will you? I need to redo the knot and if my hands slip I'll end up flashing you."

"That really worries you?" Kisuke said, fanning his face. "I mean they don't call you 'Flash Goddess' Yoruichi for no reason . . ."

Renji laughed as Yoruichi lifted her well-shaped leg and booted his father hard in the face, not even deigning to look at him as she kept her foot there and tormented him with the rather foul odour. She merely kept looking directly at the driving mirror, using it to adjust her top, and after a few moments 'accidentally' let her hand slip, at which point her top fell and exposed two, large, firm, beautiful, drool-worthy breasts for all to see . . .

"Oops! Oh my, look what I've done!"

Renji was prevented from further staring as his father jumped one seat over and shoved his fan in front of Renji's face, and – desperate for a peek – Renji fought with him to remove the damned fan. Then came the sound of 'Yoruichi-sama!' and Yoruichi's insane laughing as the car swerved, Shinji swore, and after a three-sixty spin Kisuke and Renji were sent hurtling to the floor on top of one another, Yoruichi – by that point – having redone her top and looking as modest as ever.

Okay, he was really getting too old for this . . . Kisuke really wasn't in the mood to get into near-death accidents just because Yoruichi was desperate to seduce her young bodyguard, and he certainly didn't want to be subject to Shinji's dangerous relationship with Aizen-sama, and he didn't want to have to pretend like Renji's bad acting was in anyway or form believable!

He winced as Renji jumped up onto his seat, with a yell of 'he's text me again . . . Zaraki-sensei I mean! Yeah, Zaraki!' There was a harsh pain under his stomach as he realised he was lying on Shinji's mobile phone, and he groaned and handed the device back to Shinji who began to read his messages. Kisuke simply sighed as he crawled back into his seat, and this time fastened his seatbelt, also making sure to reach across and fasten his son's. Renji didn't even object to being treated like a child as he rapidly began to read through his messaged, more absorbed in what Uryu was saying than what Kisuke was doing. When he was done he checked his own phone too, like everyone else he'd received a message earlier and was interested to read it, knowing it was probably just Tessai being overprotective and worrying about him.

"Ah, this is so sweet!" Renji exclaimed with a smile, ignoring Yoruichi as she genuinely fixed her outfit. "It's – err – Hanataro! He just says it's great that he's my – err – friend, and that I really mean a lot to him, and that he can't wait to suck . . . my . . . Err, wait, this isn't right." Renji scrolled down a little more and winced. "Gee, that's just disgusting! Who the hell sent this?"

Shinji waved his phone in the air, then waved it for a whole new purpose as he tried to keep it out of the way of Soi Fon's grabs and attempts to snatch it. In the end he threw it backwards, where he hadn't noticed Kisuke change seats, and hit the shopkeeper on the head. Kisuke sighed and read the message, comparing it to the one on his phone and then signalling to Yoruichi who handed over her phone for comparison too.

"Looks like Gin pressed 'send to all' by mistake," Kisuke said casually, handing the phones back and smiling innocently at Renji. "If you'll look the text is addressed to Kira-kun, and it's from Ichimaru-san."

Yoruichi laughed and patted Renji hard on the back, "Don't worry, kid, I'm sure Uryu will write you a text like that one day too!"

"I doubt it," Kisuke replied. "Tessai never sends me texts like that, and it's uncanny how similar Uryu is to Tessai too . . ."

Kisuke smiled behind his fan as he heard Renji groan loudly. Ah, it was always fun to torture the poor kid, and he hadn't even mentioned the fact that Renji would be sharing a room with Kisuke and Shinji yet! No doubt he'd realise on his own when they arrived though, and no doubt he'd soon realise that Uryu would be sleeping in a separate building at Aizen-sama's . . .

The only problem would be keeping Renji and Shinji away from Aizen's.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-Two

By Ray

The house was filled with noise, something he was sure Aizen-sama wouldn't feel too warmly about. Well, what was he expecting when letting out a summer house to a group of hyperactive teenagers? Grimmjow glanced out of the window, roughly twenty paces away was the house of that hot dark skinned woman, Ichigo had told him that a few of his friends would be staying there this weekend. The blue haired man sighed, brushing a hand through his hair and flopping back onto the king sized bed. He could get used too this, it was so comfortable – he almost couldn't wait for bedtime, half because he'd be sharing such a huge soft bed with his boyfriend (who was currently helping that Rukia girl carry her suitcase up the stairs), and half because the pillows were so feathery, it was almost guaranteed he'd sleep like a baby when they were finished with their vigorous love making.

If Ichigo's friends hadn't been so damn precise about arriving, he'd have tried to start off their trip with a quickie. The instant he'd pulled up his car, got their bags loaded into the house, found out the bedroom on the third floor Aizen-sama said he could use, Ichigo was downstairs waving this tiny little micra towards the house. The chance to get Ichigo alone was now long gone, the house was filled with teenagers prowling the corridors for a room to sleep in. The staff had specifically left some doors open as guest rooms, the locked ones were rooms that belonged to Aizen-sama himself, Gin Ichimaru and Tousen-san. Grimmjow rolled onto his front, heading towards the window – he had to admit, it sure was beautiful here.

The sea was so bright; he'd almost forgotten what it was like to look out at the sea. He'd been in the city for so long, it kind of made him feel guilty about not bringing Nel more. The beach was best when you were a little kid, he sighed, leaning out of the open window, taking a moment to admire the soft golden sand that was spread out before them. Naturally, it was hardly an exotic foreign beach, so if he squinted he could see the golden sands were actually pretty ridden with stones and pebbled, which pretty much cut out the chance of a romantic stroll later… or sex on the beach. However, the sea looked nice enough to toss someone in if they grated his nerves. Grimmjow smirked to himself; he'd already decided he was going to have a good time here.

He glanced over his shoulder and smirked a little as he spotted Ichigo still carrying that girl's bags up the stairs for her – forever a gentleman, even if he'd bitch and complain, Grimmjow found himself smiling fondly at how adorable his boyfriend could be. That Hanataro guy, Rukia Kuchiki's boyfriend, was red in the face – clearly from trying to carry the cases himself. It must be tough trying to impress someone when there were guys like Ichigo around. It made him feel kind of lucky that it hadn't been a competition to win Ichigo's heart. The closest thing he'd had to competition was that Abarai-kun, who would no doubt never try and pull that shit again. Grimmjow got up and headed towards the landing, watching as Ichigo and Rukia headed down the corridor to dump the bags in one of the spare rooms. No doubt the young lady would be sleeping alone… she didn't look like the sort anyway, innocent and virginal, a little spoilt – probably thanks to that prim and proper rich-boy brother of hers… The kind of girl Grimmjow would have pursued during his teens.

The others who seemed to have come with Rukia and Hanataro, was a dark haired boy with glasses, whom Grimmjow seemed to recall was named Ishida-kun or something. He and Hanataro were loading their bags into a room on the floor above. He wondered who else had come with them – the car was utterly full when he'd spotted them out of the window.

"Are you sure you're not staying, Lisa-san?" Ichigo called, leaning back over the banister. Grimmjow glanced down, spotting a dark haired woman with pink glasses – wearing incredibly short shorts. For some reason he felt like he should know who she was, though he couldn't place her.

"Nah, I'm heading over to Yoruichi's, gonna bagsy the best room," she called, brushing her hair out of her face, and heading back out through the door. Her mannerism gave the lawyer the impression the woman had only come in to see what kind of house they were staying at. Perhaps trying to level up which building was nicer?

He could hear Ichigo coming back towards the bedroom now, Rukia was unpacking her belongings, and from a suspicious bang upstairs, it was likely Hanataro or Ishida-kun had knocked into something. Finally some alone time, even if they weren't gonna do anything, it could be nice to lie on the bed and kiss, maybe get Ichigo all hot and bothered and leave him there? He'd heard from someone that always went down well – they were experimenting more sexually, it could be fun to see what it would be like to tease the orange haired boy like that. Then again… for the strangest reason he was sure he'd heard the tip from the Christmas party Ichimaru-san had spiked Aizen-sama's cranberry juice, and his Boss started talking to him about things Grimmjow could have lived his whole life without knowing…

The blue haired man reached out to take his boyfriend's shoulder, when he heard the beeping of a horn and the sound of youthful excitable people… No doubt he'd not be alone with Ichigo for a very… very long time.

Life was such a bitch.

His mood could have improved one hell of a lot. Sure it was nice to see Yoruichi flash, that woman seemed to look hotter every time he saw her – but the near death experience that followed was less welcome. That crazy Chinese bitch nearly crashed the car!

Kisuke was in a real edgy mood too, which gave Shinji the impression the shopkeeper had solely come along to the holiday to stalk both himself and Renji. It was like fighting against a giant two headed beast sometimes – on the one hand there was Sosuke, who was this ever-changing deceptive, evil bastard of an entity – but then there was Kisuke, who took the title 'Evil Genius' to a whole new level… Both of them wanted things that Shinji wasn't sure how to give.

Sosuke was making his head hurt right now. He had to wonder if it'd be easier to just call it quits, he was getting too old for this crap… which wasn't something he'd really want to say – but it wasn't just him, Sosuke sure as hell didn't know what he wanted either, that was why he pulled this shit all the time. He'd swap from being such a vindictive little dickhead, who altered your ring tone (bastard), and kicked a guy outta head after the best sex a creep like Aizen could hope to get – to the kind of guy who wrote notes and soppy letters and held ya round the shoulders when he forgot he was meant to be a prick. He pissed him off so much!

Now that he thought about it, the last time he'd seen his lover (kind of), was for about five minutes. They'd met in the lobby of a restaurant, luckily for Shinji; he'd been with Kensei, who was easy going when it came to Shinji's 'stupid-dick-head-fucked-up-love-life' as Hiyori might put it.

Most of the time it was small talk, Sosuke was practically undressing him with his eyes, leaning slightly infront of the exit. Bastard always had to be in control… Then as Tousen-san came back to collect him, the brunette had leant in and taken his chin with his hand, "Do you enjoy receiving letters from me, Shinji?"

It pissed him off – like he wanted him to act like some blushing nut head over heels for him, so cockily, Shinji put his phone down on the table and said, "Nah, Sosuke, I throw 'um away, just paper, right?" Then he turned to talk to Kensei about getting a ride with Urahara in two days for the trip… - That must have been where the bastard got ahold of his phone!

Sneaky little…

At least the beach was pretty – and from the array of cars pulling up aside the two houses, it was clear they were one of the last, if not the last to arrive. They'd have gotten her sooner if Renji-kun hadn't made them pull over twice to call back 'erm… Rukia'. It made him wonder how a kid raised by Kisuke could be such an appalling liar!

He climbed out of the van, noticing how that Soi Fon chick was already in the boot, carrying an assortment of cases, which all belonged to Yoruichi. It looked awful funny really; Soi Fon was perhaps… 4'11? He wasn't sure, but she was tiny! The case was about 3'11 – she looked hilarious handling two of them. Yoruichi strode out, tossing back her hair, watching her bodyguard for a moment, before she came up behind her, pressing against her and leaning down a little.

"I'll take one of those, Soi Fon," she ran her dark hand over Soi Fon's arm, their fingers brushing together, before she scooped the case up, it dangled over her shoulder as she headed up the steps to her house.

Meanwhile, poor Soi Fon had gone bright pink and was glancing down at her arm like it had just been blessed by the Pope. It was sweet really.

The buzzing of his phone caught him, and he quickly flipped it open before anyone else heard Aizen's adorable message. Hiyori was trying to send him a video, he accepted, frowning a little – what on earth could she want? What he was faced with, was a very bright screen – palm trees, the sound of people laughing around a pool, a group of people drinking cocktails with fruit, before the camera whizzed towards the pool. He recognized Mashiro, and Love… the rest just looked like happy young people enjoying a good party. Then he saw Hiyori in the middle, grinning brilliantly. At this point, the whole group bellowed, 'HELLO FROM HAWAII, DICK-HEAD!' Before they all started laughing, and the screen went dark.

Hawaii? Seriously – Hiyori was in Hawaii now?

It was… pretty here, sure. But the beach was stony, the heat wasn't scorching… and… Urgh! That little bitch – he wanted to go to Hawaii! No wonder she'd been so smug about the whole thing yesterday. Sometimes it really felt like the world was conspiring against him.

He strode onto the porch, keeping his eyes out for someone he knew. Instantly recognizing the posh car, it was one of Aizen's. Later on he'd have to sneak away from Kisuke and give the brunette a piece of his mind for fucking with his phone. Plus… he erm… wanted to check if he was lying or not about having a floor for 'just us'.

"I was just gonna go check if Ichigo was here," Renji-kun said nervously, gesturing to the house with his head, "I won't be long, Dad."

Kisuke had his arms folded, clearly unimpressed, "That's fine, Renji. So why do you need to take that bag with you?"

"It's my bag, I just… there's something in it, something I need to give to – Hanataro."

Shinji sat down on the table on the porch, curious to see how this one worked out… That and now he really wanted to know what perhaps something was in the bag… for his boyfriend. Maybe it was something juicy, like a sex toy or hand-cuffs… He drummed his fingers on the table, watching and waiting.

"You can give it to him later. Why not just give that to me for now? I'll put it in our room," Kisuke reached out to take it, clasping onto one of the handles.

"No, Dad, I'm fine," Renji tightened his grip, attempting to pull it forwards, his face gradually growing redder and redder, until it roughly resembled his hair.

Poor kid.

"Hey, Renji," A bald youth called as he approached the house, followed by Ichigo, a skinny blonde kid, Toy-Boy-san and Ryuken Ishida's boy, the five of them all wearing sandals and swimming trunks, "Wanna go look for drift wood with us? Muguruma-san says we can have a camp fire tomorrow if we gather-!"

His sentence cut short, by both Renji and Kisuke yanking on the bag so hard it split in half, sending brightly coloured condoms shooting over the lot of them. Kisuke's face was a picture, Renji looked horrorified, and everyone else just looked completely stunned. Shinji burst out laughing. For a few moments, there was no sound other than the Vizard's loud ungraceful laughter; the blonde man was holding his sides.

It was Ishida who spoke first, he straightened up, and slipped on a white shirt that he had folded into his bag, "I forgot I needed to finish unpacking," he said, shooting Renji a furious glare before turning back towards Aizen's house.

Renji went to rush after him, "Uryu, it's not what you think-!"

But was stopped dead by Kisuke's fierce snap of, "Renji Abarai, get your butt back here."

Ichigo contemplated how bad he felt for Renji as he and Ikkaku dragged some drift wood back towards the sandy area between the two houses. Renji never had luck on his side – Ichigo would remember when the poor guy started dating Yumichika last year. He'd been totally in awe and not quite believing himself good enough for the model, which Yumichika totally played up too in his own vain way. And since then no matter what he did, Renji just hadn't been able to get it right.

Uryu was a prude, he'd come around – but it was so fucking obvious that he liked Renji. He'd been texting him since he arrived and according to Rukia, the whole trip up to the beach as well. Uryu was the kind of guy who'd get defensive and easily embarrassed. Plus the guy was a virgin, so it was no wonder he'd gotten so flustered seeing Renji had packed all those condoms… and for Mr Hats and Clogs to see… Ichigo couldn't blame him for being embarrassed. In that respect, he and Uryu were kind of alike. The first time he slept over at Grimmjow's, the blue haired lawyer had condoms stashed in his drawer, he'd only made one bed up, and he told Ichigo he'd put lube in every room of the house – just incase. He remembered being so embarrassed and angry he'd stormed out.

If he was as like Ichigo as the orange haired boy thought he was, then Uryu was probably just so embarrassed because he'd been considering sleeping with Renji, letting the redhead be his first. Personally, Ichigo had always wondered what that would be like – Renji had always been keen on the idea. On one very awkward night out, before Renji had slept with Yumichika, the redhead asked the model if he was a virgin – to which point Yumichika and Rangiku burst on laughing and literally had to hold each other up. Poor Renji had looked so embarrassed.

As they approached the house, Ichigo spotted his friend sat up on the porch, looking utterly miserable, peeling a pot of potatoes. Mr Hat and Clogs was watching him from the more sheltered part of the front porch, whilst on the phone to someone Ichigo highly suspected was Tessai-san.

"I think we should throw ol' Renji a bone," Ikkaku said suddenly, "Let's distract Urahara-san so he can go make up with Uryu. He looks so damn miserable you'd think someone smacked him in the kisser."

For some reason Ichigo thought he'd be better at distracting Mr Hat and Clogs than Ikkaku. He dropped the drift wood down and headed over to the house, climbing up on the porch, and he and Ikkaku sat either side of Renji. Ikkaku groped a rough arm around the redhead's shoulders, grinning to try and brighten up his utterly miserable expression.

"Have you finished unpacking, Mr Hat and Clogs?" Ichigo asked, leaning over, and glancing behind him to talk to Kisuke.

"Yes, Renji was such a good help with that," he was fanning himself politely, "What about you, Ichigo?"

"I'm all sorted – Grimmjow and me got here first so we had plenty of time to unpack," he ruffled his hair, turning to talk to him now, groaning a little at how Ikkaku copied the notion. Sure it was polite to pay attention to someone speaking, but they just looked synchronised. Kisuke Urahara was no moron.

"Ah, yes. And what about you, Madarame-kun, are you unpacked?"

Ikkaku shifted a little embarrassedly, "Yumichika actually kicked me out so he could unpack for us both," he rubbed the back of his head, "Speaking of which… I should be getting back to the room."

Ichigo wanted to strangle him a little.

"Oh," Ikkaku glanced back, "I can't quite remember… which floor it's on. Urahara-san, would you help me?"

Even Renji looked exasperated.

Kisuke had a little unimpressed smile on his face, "I'm sure a boy of your age can find his way back to one little room, don't you think, Madarame-kun? Afterall, I need to stay and keep an eye on Renji while he peels the potatoes."

"W-Well, I…" Ikkaku began, and probably would have said something, if Yumichika hadn't appeared through the door looking livid.

"There you are, Ikkaku! I've been looking for you everywhere! I hope it wasn't your intention to leave me to unpack all of your clothes! That is most ugly behaviour," he reached out, taking his lover by the arm and dragging the now very awkward and pale looking Ikkaku inside and out of sight.

All of a sudden Ichigo was thinking maybe Urahara-san was too smart for them to out fox. If Uryu was here that would be a different matter, that guy could outsmart distinguished university professors if he wanted too. Maybe Renji was just gonna have to bide his time…

Or so he thought – but then, something amazing happened.

His attention was drawn to a scene near the back porch of Aizen's house, in a more shaded area away from everyone else. Shinji and Aizen were talking, and then the blonde man started to walk away in a temper. Aizen-san reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, holding him firmly for a moment, then sort of put his arms around him, hugging him from behind. It was the strangest thing Ichigo had ever seen – what the hell was going on there? He was torn between wanting to know, and never wanting to hear about it again.

And it got a lot more intense, Shinji turned around and kissed Aizen – Sosuke Aizen – on the mouth, they were leaning up against the wall now, locked at the lips. It was gross… really, really gross. Renji let out an immature kind of snicker. Ichigo couldn't stop himself from thinking how small Shinji seemed with Aizen pressing up against him like that… almost as if the lawyer was trying to possess all of him at once.

He and Renji were both openly staring at the scene, Ichigo suddenly felt Urahara-san leaning beside them. The older man let out an irritated grunt, before he crossed the porch and began to stride over to Shinji and Aizen, who broke apart.

"Shinji, I believe you have unpacking to do. Let's get back to Yoruichi-san's for a chat, hm?"

Shinji started talking rather quickly, brushing away from Aizen, who looked utterly composed and cool, like a man during an easy interview with the press, rather than the teenager who'd been caught making out with his boyfriend.

Anyway, they couldn't have asked for a more convient moment, Ichigo turned and clapped Renji on the back, "Go!" he hissed, "Get to Uryu's now - while your Dad's distracted!"

Good God, he didn't need telling twice.

It wasn't the fact that Urahara-san had seen the condoms – though now he was a little worried what the shop keeper must think of him… and it wasn't that he thought Renji was ridiculous for packing about forty of them – it was Renji's pace. Sure it was Uryu's policy to always be prepared, but surely going all the way wasn't expected for another few months, right?

He liked Renji – he really honestly did. Infact he liked him more than he'd ever admit to anyone – particularly Renji himself. But this was his first time and furthermore, it was going to be with a guy. When they kissed and touched each other, it became sort of second nature to act as the more submissive role – would Renji still be in such a hurry if he was going to take another man inside him? Furthermore, Renji was hinting and hinting towards sexual intercourse every time they were together intimately. The hand that used to rest upon the back of his neck, gently stroking his hair, was now lecherously rubbing along his inner thigh, or tugging at his belt, or harshly squeezing his backside. And while he'd admit he wasn't made of stone enough to say it wasn't enjoyable – it was… but he couldn't shake the feeling of embarrassment.

It was like the time he'd implied sex with Renji at his house party to infuriate his father. If he actually went all the way with his boyfriend now, Uryu didn't want it to feel rushed – if they did it to fast, it would be somewhat meaningless and easy to use as firing fuel in the next fight he had with his father. That wasn't what he wanted. Ryuken had taken so many good things from Uryu's life – his rage against his father made him want to spoil what should have been happy events between them.

When Uryu turned nine, his father threw him a party. Uryu explained several times he didn't want the party, he was still grieving. Ryuken was trying to cheer him up, but as angry as he was, Uryu just saw it as his father trying to sweep over Sensei's death. So he acted like a spoilt child and ruined his own party. After the guests left (early), Ryuken took him by the arm and told him he was humiliating himself, which was when he started calling his father by his first name.

When he graduated from middle school, Ryuken didn't seem to care – though later, Isshin Kurosaki-san told him Ryuken had told everyone who'd listen, very proudly, that his son had graduated from middle school as top of the year group. He never went to the ceremony anyway, because Uryu went out of his way so Ryuken never got his invitation.

If he rushed it with Renji, next time he and Ryuken clashed, Uryu wouldn't be able to stop himself from saying, "I had sex with Renji Abarai in your bed."

That just… couldn't be what anyone wanted associated with the first time they had sex. And he really-really liked Renji. Uryu wanted it to be… meaningful… special, not something he wanted to shy away from. Renji was a good guy, he was dorky and sweet, so brash and forward, more beautiful than he'd ever know he was. You always knew where you stood with him because the guy was utterly incapable of masking his emotions; they were all over his face. Ichigo = friend, Rukia = best friend, Chad = friend, big, must respect, Ikkaku = friend, trusts less than others, Yumichika = ex lover, not friend, Izuru = friend/beta, need to protect, Hisagi = friend/alpha, come to for knowledge, Byakuya Kuchiki-san = proceed with caution.

And that was another thing, Renji's only other intimate relationship had been with Yumichika Ayasegawa, a very beautiful model. From what he'd heard in the past from Rukia-san, the relationship had been too much too fast and very intense (for Renji at least). Everyone who read Vizard's fashion section – which he did because of the clothes and the sewing pages at the back – had seen that man's body.

Sure, you could say it was air brushed, but Vizard Media was infamous for not airbrushing – one of the directors, a Hiyori Sarugaki-san, said airbrushing was for 'complete dickhead's'… which wasn't the more articulate way of putting it, but still it was a fine gesture.

That and Uryu had seen Yumichika in person, no airbrushing would be needed. Could he compete with that? What if when he took his clothes off, Renji didn't like what he saw?

Uryu had an ugly scar from falling down the stairs as a child, and sure there wasn't really anything wrong with his body. He took good care of himself, he was a little pale – but he'd never had huge concerns about his looks before. Not to mention it was common knowledge that Yumichika had sexual partners before Renji, he'd have a lot more experience. Renji had never complained – infact he'd enjoyed their 'playtime' a little too much once or twice, about anything Uryu had done before, but what if when they had sex, it just hurt for Uryu and Renji didn't enjoy himself at all?

He rubbed his head – perhaps he was being silly, his nerves were getting the better of him. What he'd just listed in his head were a whole lot of what ifs. Renji wouldn't be cruel to him and he'd just bought condoms with him. He hadn't held him down to a bed and demanded sex. Uryu was being silly.

Still, he doubted he'd be seeing Renji anyway. Urahara-san had looked pretty mad.

Uryu rolled onto his back on his bed, Ganju was on the phone to his sister downstairs – from the sounds of it, they were having an argument. Hanataro had been following Rukia-san around like a lost puppy for the last half an hour, not that she seemed to mind. See, that was a sweet coupling. Hanataro would never pack condoms or expect that sort of thing of Rukia-san… he just wasn't that kind of guy, not even mentioning the fact if Byakuya Kuchiki-san caught wind of this, he'd probably destroy any man who pressured his sister. Mind you, Hanataro was possibly the polar opposite of Renji, and so it wasn't a very accurate comparison.

He took off his glasses and wiped them with the cleaning cloth he'd placed on the bedside table. How would he really explain this to Renji? What if the redhead thought he was just being mean?

"Can I come in?"

As he put his glasses back on, he spotted his boyfriend stood at the doorway. He looked so awkward, so timid… his expression was like that of a child attempting to apologize to a parent after breaking a vase or something. Renji even had his hands behind his back, looking at the floor. In retrospect, for a man the size and bulk of his boyfriend, the sight was a little funny. But at the same time, so adorable it made him want to put his arms around him and kiss him.

"I suppose that would be acceptable," he gestured to the room, "You'll have to watch out for Ganju's shoes though, he'd bought so many things with him." Uryu rolled his eyes and smiled very gently at Renji. When he saw him… sometimes it was easy to forget why he was mad at him in the first place.

"Thanks," the redhead said awkwardly, brushing his bandana out of his face, he came and sat beside Uryu on the bed, keeping some distance away. "Erm… listen, about the condoms… well…" he trailed off and shot Uryu a shy smile.

Uryu frowned, unimpressed, his arms folded, waiting for a better excuse.

Renji went pink, glancing at his feet, "W-well, you see… I only packed them as a precaution. I have… condoms lying around at home. I bought a jumbo pack while I was with Yumichika but then he wouldn't sleep with me and then he left and…" Renji was babbling, now bright red in the face. He stopped and swallowed, before reaching to touch Uryu's hand, "I'm sorry. I'm not… expecting you to get your rocks off for me right now or while we're here or anything like that, I just thought I'd pack some incase you changed your mind," he seemed to calm a little more as Uryu gently hooked his fingers into the larger hand.

Uryu looked away a little, his cheeks slightly flushed, "Well… I understand. And you should know I don't want… our first time to be… too quickly."

"Me too!" Renji broke out suddenly, raising his hand to grasp onto Uryu's shoulder, "I know I get too forward sometimes, but I can't help it honestly! It's just because I suppose… it's because I really like you, Uryu… like really like you."

Suddenly hearing that from him, made Uryu's whole face go so dark he had to hide it in Renji's shoulder, laughing very quietly, he wrapped his arms around his waist. Renji felt so strong this way, and warm… it was so refreshing after living in the coldness of the Ishida house for so long. This was why he was even considering letting Renji be his first – he liked who he was when the other boy was around. He felt those big arms settle around his waist, one of them stroking his hair very softly, Uryu let out a contented sigh, "I really like you too, you idiot."

From the hallway, Kisuke couldn't really find a way to go in and break this up. He smiled very gently to himself and turned to walk down the stairs.

The plan to get Nnoitra and Szayel sorted out wasn't going as Grimmjow expected. He'd watched the scene from the window. Nnoitra was smoking a cigarette outside after loading all of Aizen-sama's bags into the house (a little self-given reward for his hard work), when Matsumoto-san pulled up in her car. She, that blonde kid and Szayel started to get out, when the pink haired man spotted Nnoitra. Instantly he got back in the car and tried to reverse off the drive and back onto the road – Matsumoto-san had to snatch the keys.

Since then, Szayel had gone into Yoruichi-san's house and hadn't come out. Nnoitra had gone straight up to Grimmjow's room and started shouting at him. He'd properly slammed him into one of the walls as well.

"Why'd you have to butt your big nose in here, Grimm? He's gonna think I came here on purpose! Yer such a stupid shit! Did you think of this, or did his jackass brother put you up too it?!"

Ilford Granz was Szayel's brother, in charge of a downtown bowling arena, Nnoitra didn't like him because he thought he was weak and because Szayel didn't like him – Szayel would tell everyone his brother was dead. The two of them had a falling out when they were children, Szayel always looked down his nose at his big brother and Ilford always kept his distance. Although it had caused one hell of a lot of confusion; Szayel accidentally referred to his brother as deceased, whilst on the phone to his father. Grimmjow had been at the bowling alley visiting his old friend, when the Granz couple came rushing in, throwing their arms around their son and clinging onto him.

Ilford took his younger brother's distance and craziness with a more neutral approach, occasionally asking Szayel to stop telling people he was dead. Otherwise he didn't get involved in his life, although he did take an interest. He'd ask Grimmjow about things like that, as they worked for the same company. Ilford had picked Szayel up from Matsumoto-san's bar in the last year on one of his drunkern destructive evenings. He'd carried him out with Szayel cackling like a mad man, "I'm getting carried away by a dead man! A dead man has come to get me!"

Nicely enough, Ilford hated Nnoitra because of how he fucked Szayel up. Personally, Grimmjow would've just let the cry-baby cry. It was a pretty twisted relationship, if Szayel adored someone and they messed him around, he'd turn into a fucking mental patient. Still, if Nnoitra was still so keen on him – and they did go well together… Even though when they fought, it was actually scary.

Grimmjow and Ichigo had done all their fighting before they got together, he couldn't imagine putting his hands to his lover unless they were sparring. They'd fought before they got together, but not like that. Hell, Nnoitra was known for being a lose canon, they grew up around the same neighbourhoods – apart from the older man's had been much rougher. Grimmjow had seen him fight properly in the past; he was so wild and completely loved just tearing up a place or a person.

Once outside a club, Grimmjow and Stark were smoking when the two lovers came out and started yelling at each other. Szayel threw a bottle at him, Nnoitra yanked his hair back so hard the scientist nearly fell, Szayel kicked him in the groin, Nnoitra shoved him against a wall, Szayel bit him on the shoulder so hard he bled and wouldn't let go. All this time they were swearing and arguing. Stark was going to go over and wrench Nnoitra off, hopefully without having a chunk of his shoulder ripped out – when Nnoitra managed to yank Szayel off, pinned his wrists up against the wall and started kissing him. They'd swapped from completely furious to completely into each other again. The next thing Grimmjow knew, the taller man had dropped his pants – he saw a skinny pasty butt – Szayel started moaning really, really loud… And Stark muttered something about 'Let's get the fuck inside, eh?'

"I was looking for you," Ichigo called, reaching up and placing the small of his hand on Grimmjow's back. The younger man drew his arms around his boyfriend's waist, resting against his shoulder. It was nice that Ichigo was becoming more affectionate when it was just them, "Listen, Kensei says we're gonna have a fire tonight and possibly BBQ food?"

That would mean less time with just him and Ichigo, but more to try and get his friend's back together. He frowned a little, rubbing the back of his neck and turning towards his boyfriend, Grimmjow shot him a smirk, "Is it gonna be on the beach?"

"Yeah, I told you already."

He leant forward and kissed him surprisingly gently – it was surprising, when all he could think about when he closed his eyes was sinking into that delicious tight heat that was his Ichigo. Grimmjow ran a hand over his shoulders, "Perhaps after a while, we can take a walk on the beach? Just you and me… we haven't been alone together for so long."

Ichigo went a little pink, "We'll be alone when we go camping, Grimmjow."

"Walk with me on the beach," he reached down and let his hand waver between his lower back and his tight buttocks, teasingly, because he'd already decided he was going to tease Ichigo, "I miss you."

When he felt the other 'accidentally' shift towards the hand, trying to get it to slide down lower, Grimmjow raised his hands back to Ichigo's face, he pinched his cheeks and gave him a sloppy kiss on the nose. His boyfriend scowled at him, and Grimmjow winked, before heading down the stairs, "Come on, I'll see if I can lend a hand with this bloody BBQ."

Outside the house was a rather touching scene, at least according to Ichigo. It was nice to see his friend's just sitting enjoying themselves on the beach. Though it was a shame Orihime and Chad couldn't make it… Uryu and Renji seemed to have made up, they were sat together by the logs Ikkaku seemed to have brought out, arranged around all the firewood – everything seemed to have been set up as he'd left. Kensei had seemed in a bit of a hurry to finish and follow Shuhei, who was the only one in full beach gear (just in swimming trunks), which was a very good look for him, showing off his tattoo's and scars. If Kensei left his work to pursue his boyfriend, nobody would've blamed him.

Yumichika was sat with Rangiku and Lisa from what Ichigo could see – Ikkaku was off messing around with Ganju and Hanataro making sandcastles. The model didn't look very happy at all; hopefully he wasn't too sore about Ikkaku hiding from packing… again. Ichigo glanced down at their hands – great, all three of them were drinking sake… at 2 o'clock in the afternoon? Seriously – what was wrong with some people? Still this was a holiday…

Izuru hadn't been seen for the past hour or so… which could only really mean he was alone with Ichimaru. Tousen-san had been on his cell phone to what Grimmjow said was probably his young son. They'd passed him on the corridor a little while ago now and the dark skinned man hadn't been seen since.

Yoruichi was sunning herself, in a bikini, sipping a large fruity looking drink, with Urahara-san beside her, fanning them both. Soi Fon, who had gone bright red in the face, sat on her left. Ichigo supposed the Chinese woman perhaps had sunstroke, and didn't really get why Grimmjow was sniggering at her.

For the second time that evening, his attention was drawn to Shinji and… was that Sosuke Aizen… again?! Ichigo's eyes narrowed a little, the pair was, this time, further from the others, a short walk from Aizen's house.

"Yer said Gin wouldn't be near the room, Sosuke!" Shinji snarled at him, "Yer fuller o' shit than I remember!"

"Him and Kaname are to share the room," the brunette sighed, rubbing his temples, "I expect Gin will spend most of his nights with Izuru Kira on the next floor, as I explained. I was unsure of Kaname coming until earlier this week. Technically, Gin is no-where near, as I promised."

"Bullshit – that's just bullshit. Ya just did this t' see my face when ya got me t' that room only t' have Creepy Face and Tousen pop by with their goddamn snide remarks," the blonde looked actually fuming now - his mouth drawn into a thin line when he stared at Aizen accusingly.

He had to admit, that was partially true. Part of Shinji Hirako's appeal had always been his expressions, his reactions to things. There was something about him that made Sosuke feel powerful and at the same time completely vulnerable…

In all honesty, the blonde man completely fascinated him – nobody had ever left such a long lasting impression, nobody could get him to pleasure like that. But it wasn't just about the sex – although it was good, mind-blowing… perfect… even after they were done, Sosuke would find himself putting his arms around his lover, kissing down his neck… enjoying the body heat between them. Sometimes he missed it on those nights Shinji would storm out of the room in a temper. It was the strangest thing, to want to taunt and make him obey him… but at the same time, he'd feel compelled to send him… what could only be described as love notes, and miss him when he wasn't there. Sosuke supposed every smart man, every successful man needed his muse – a special someone to interest and inspire them. Was that what Shinji was?

The word muse implied someone musical, or graceful. The description would have better suited someone like Gin: a powerful intelligent entity with moonlike grace. Gin had been inspiration for him, an inspiration to provide for and the man was indeed very dear to him. He'd worry, particularly now – about his adoptive son. It was clear to him, despite how the silver haired man hid it, that his eating problems were getting worse and worse. Though his way of showing it was a little… unorthodox, Kaname was worried also. Naturally, it would only be a matter of time before Izuru-kun realized too.

From an adult point of view, he knew he should probably intervene. Gin's relationship with the boy was too passionate, but for now, the two of them were happy, so it would be cruel to do.

Here he was again, facing down his problem – Shinji Hirako. He had so much on his mind, his company, Szayel Aporro was trying to hand in his resignation, Gin was suffering, and Kaname kept insisting they hold meetings with Vizard. There was so much to do, so very much to attend too, and all he could think about was Shinji Hirako; the way he smiled with the whole of his mouth, the way his short bob bounced in the breeze, the way, when he came his eyes would roll back and his cheeks would flush the most delightful shade of pink.

It was almost like an infection of feelings – the same that had surged through him during the later stages of their 'courtship' in the past, that had bubbled inside him during the years they were parted, were now surging all over the place and out of control. Was it good to let someone have such power over you? Well… it wasn't like Shinji knew the full effect he had. The man wasn't smart enough to realize.

"It hurts me, to hear you say those things about me, Shinji," he said, though he let the smirk slide across his features.

The next thing he knew was cold… and wet. Both of which were horribly so – Shinji moved so quickly – skinny arms shot forward and gave him a good shove. He'd stumbled backwards, only to trip and fall flat on his back into the ocean. The water was cold, waves running forwards and catching around his ankles. His suit was totally soaked – and for a moment he lay there in the shallow waters in a daze – wet hair sliding forwards from its normal smart gelled position, falling floppily into his eyes. It was then he realized he was wearing an expression of total and utter shock on his face – quickly he masked it with a scowl.

"You know, Shinji, Kaname has very sensitive hearing. I invested in a ball gag not too long ago for you. I might leave it in considering your tendency to shout at me after I've finished making love to you so well."

"What on earth is the matter with you?" Shuhei took the model by the arm, steering him to one side. From the pink flush across his cheeks, you could guess what the matter was: Yumichika had drunk a little too much sake, which he'd probably gotten from Rangiku. Rangiku was so adorable when she dished out alcohol. Her generous nature was her downfall when it came to situations like this… Yumichika could be such a devil when he drank.

Yumichika scowled at him, pulling his arm back a little, "Oh, Shuhei, I know you like to act as some kind of… mother-hen, but it's most unnecessary here."

The scarred man sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fore-finger and thumb, "Oh Lord…" he groaned, "Yumichika, I think you should slow it down a little with the booze. It's only the afternoon, eh? Drink later," he released his arm and patted him gently on the shoulder. This wasn't what he needed – he got back from his alone time with Kensei, to be told by Renji that Yumichika was being bitchy. He observed for a few minutes, his ex lover did seem to be in an absolutely dreadful mood – anyone who approached him seemed to be getting an ear-full. He must have called poor Rangiku-san a 'saggy old lady' about four times in the five minutes Shuhei observed. Even when Madarame-kun approached him, Yumichika had been cold, which surprised him as the model clearly adored that man.

He was prepared for a full argument, but Yumichika's eyes seemed to lighten a little, then he swallowed almost timidly, looking away, "I'm sorry, Shuhei," he said weakly, rubbing his head, flicking his short purple bob back, "I think it must be the travelling, it's disgustingly hot today, I suppose it wasn't sitting with me."

Shuhei had to smile a little at that, he bent his head a little, "Did you remember a parasol or something? You do hate to get sun burnt. Rose-san won't be happy if his top model comes back in lobster shade."

"As if I'd let that happen," Yumichika cut in, his tone was stiff, but he was still smiling a little, "I'll just sit under Rangiku's, though I'll go and get my sunglasses," he seemed to brighten up slightly.

It would be useless to ask what had really bothered him. Yumichika could be such a wreck. He never wanted to talk about his problems, when they'd dated, Shuhei would be attacked with violent mood swings and such a cruel tongue, followed by Yumichika's sweet smile and an apology. One night, Shuhei had come back from college for the day, they'd frantically made love in Yumichika's bed for hours, then afterwards, the scarred man had gotten up to head off and see Renji, Izuru and Momo before his room-mate picked him up – Yumichika had clung to him and begged him not to leave him. It was a side of him he'd never seen before. Yumichika had looked as if, if Shuhei had gone, he would have cried. He could still remember the other man's voice that day, 'Please, Shuhei. Don't leave me… please don't leave me alone.'

Naturally he'd stayed, his friends were disappointed, but Shuhei couldn't leave him by himself. Not when he was like that.

In a way it made him a little relieved they'd both wanted to end their coupling, he couldn't keep track of the poor guy's issues, and it wasn't like Yumichika broadcasted them. He liked to keep you distracted with his beauty, as many beautiful people liked to do.

Yumichika patted his arm now, giving him that rare bright bubbly smile that kind of made your insides melt – especially when it was for real, which it probably wasn't. "I'll see you later, Shuhei. I hope you enjoyed your quickie," he waved to him as he pranced back over to Rangiku, who had, joyfully, removed her over shirt, showing off full bouncing breasts in the cute little bikini she had on. Was it bad he was hoping she hugged him later? Or sooner for that matter…

He blushed suddenly as he realized Yumichika had just mentioned the 'quickie', he brushed his hair out of his face, remembering the reason he'd been mad in the first place. Naturally, all trouble in this place would lead back to Kensei. Damn Kensei – it wasn't like Shuhei had asked him for anything… too terrible, too outrageous.

Shuhei wanted to top him.

It wasn't like he was bad in bed, he'd slept with a few girls in college and Yumichika, he'd always been the seme in whatever intimate relationship he'd had, however brief. Nobody had gone near his backside before Kensei – once, Yumichika had given him a rim job, but that had been his absolute limit when it came to his virgin asshole. Another time during 69ing, Yumichika had this really sexy habit of licking or running a finger along the stretch of skin between his balls and his ass, it made him go all quivery. One time, the beautiful man took it a step further and put his fingers inside him the same way Shuhei was doing to him – God, he nearly jumped a mile. The model had laughed at him for about an hour.

But that all changed when he met Kensei, and hell did it change. He became submissive for the older man, and although there was nothing wrong with their sex life. Infact since their mini-break-up, it had only gotten better, Kensei was more intense and tenderer than he'd ever been. Why, just last night he'd taken him, on his back, on their bed, with their hands locked… the slow deep thrusts had been so over-whelming, his eyes were watery when he came to his release. It was great – better than before – but Shuhei was craving being ontop, being in control and being inside his lover. The idea of it made him so horny he almost hadn't been able to wait for Kensei to finish off the campfire for tonight. He'd lounged around like a slutty student lusting for their teacher 'after hours' – Kensei was unable to resist. But when Shuhei tried to show him, and tell him what he wanted, Kensei changed. He laughed at first, taking Shuhei's hands from his rear and holding them up against the wall, continuing to kiss down his neck, "I don't think I heard ya right there, Shu."

He'd scowled at first, and then repeated it, "I want to fuck your ass."

Kensei stopped his kisses and laughed, pulling back and pinching his cheeks, "Oh, Shu! Hahaha, Shuhei, my little Shuhei!"

"What's funny?"

"You can't be serious."

"Well, I am."

Kensei seemed to calm down, wiping his brow and sniggered again, "I'm bigger than you are. I'm older than you are, I have more experience. I'm the dominant one in this relationship, love."

"That's ridiculous," Shuhei said, kissing him on the lips, "I was always the dominant in my previous relationships. I changed for you."

The older man still looked amused, "Yer only other gay relationship was with that girly model, Shu. What's this really about? I know I satisfy you."

"A man has his needs, Kensei," Shuhei frowned, "Is it really that hilarious to you that I want to change the dynamic a bit?"

"It's not happening, Shuhei."

It pissed him off, so much so he just stormed off, leaving Kensei with his shorts hanging down. It was so hypocritical, one minute he'd treat him like a capable grown-up man, the next he'd laugh at him and call him 'little' or 'silly' – he was being completely unreasonable. Perhaps that was why he'd been so quick to respond to Yumichika that day, because he wanted to be in control again? It was the one thing Kensei truly denied him.

The way he laughed – like the idea of Shuhei fucking him was totally ridiculous! The ironic thing being he was good in bed, he was a creative seme. The idea of finally getting to pound Kensei's muscular round ass was getting him so hot and heavy in his dreams that when he woke up, it took so much self control to not just dive on his lover and take him right then and there.

It just wasn't fair!

The campfire light was so pretty, Ikkaku wasn't too keen on that Muguruma-san, but he sure as hell could set the damn thing up. It was like watching one of those nature-nut shows on TV. Zaraki-Sensei was the most admirable man he knew, but even he was lazily in tune with city life, he'd heard when Sensei was young, he'd wandered around Japan by foot, all alone, travelling and fighting whatever the element he was in. It was very inspiration to think about Zaraki-Sensei's young days… though in hindsight, the older man probably lived in such harsh conditions because he wasn't going to waste his time learning how to set up a makeshift fire.

The bald teenager was leaning against one of the logs himself, Renji and Ichigo fetched from out an about near the cabins. The sand felt cool against his calves, though he hated the feeling of it caught between his toes. Yumichika was sat perched on the log beside him; he was wearing some nice shirt, and these really soft shorts; Ikkaku could feel the material against his arm. He knew that his lover normally preferred a wardrobe that allowed more variety, but personally, Ikkaku liked the simple clothes he wore to the beach – Yumichika liked to dress well and constantly tend to his appearance, but personally, Ikkaku thought he looked especially beautiful with the least effort… The natural look was shown more by the cute pink flush across Yumichika's cheeks from drinking all that sake with Rangiku-san earlier. Without cutting to the chase, Ikkaku felt like one lucky guy.

In a normal case, he didn't really enjoy sitting still for long, but on the beach it was so different. You could stay here all day and even stay here at night. It was relaxing, but there were still loads of stuff to do: plus, Ichigo, Renji and he were all going to spar together tomorrow morning – which only added to Ikkaku's easy sense of happiness. But it was more than that, he'd swam in the ocean, learnt a bit of surfing, had sandcastle building contest… and just enjoyed a bit of sunshine. If he and Yumichika hadn't decided to move slowly, he'd want to try out al fresco sex – which they'd done before, but not on a beach!

Right now was a lively atmosphere; a lot of the adults had gone to bed… For example, he couldn't see that Yoruichi-san or her prissy little body-guard anywhere. Urahara-san had retired for the night, he'd been on the phone to Jinta-kun and Ururu-chan, and had then called Renji over – the two of them were talking quietly on the porch of Yoruichi-san's house. Sosuke Aizen, Tousen and Ichimaru weren't around either – which was a good thing, as it would be a bit disturbing if they were out hanging around with the kids – still, he couldn't help but notice that Izuru was no-where to be seen. Those three were so stiff and business like, not at all like the Vizards – their offices told you everything about the adult conduct you'd get from them. He hadn't seen that Nnoitra guy for two hours now – he'd sort of wanted to catch him before bedtime to invite him to the early morning sparring… Zaraki-Sensei had laughed on the phone when Ikkaku mentioned Aizen's driver's name. Perhaps they knew each other? Zaraki-Sensei always knew a lot of good people…

Rukia-san and Hanataro were sat around the main camp fire, attempting to toast marshmallows – well, if it wasn't for the large bag of marshmallows beside them, Ikkaku would think they were just burning things for the hell of it. That Ganju guy was making a rather futile attempt to set them in the right direction… Oh well, they seemed happy enough laughing over their sham of toasting.

Ichigo had taken off down the beach with Grimmjow not long ago; they seemed to have gone for what Rangiku was calling 'a romantic walk beneath the stars'. Well, it was sure the night for it, Ikkaku had never seen so many stars in the sky.

The bar owner herself was sat beside Lisa-san, chatting away over sake, occasionally leaning back to turn up the stereo someone had propped up on a cardboard box. It was nice in a way to hear snippets of chatter from each of the little groups within the larger one – a real snap shot of life. He'd once heard somewhere: it was probably new age bullshit from Yumi's personal trainer, that the beach had a way of soothing out everyone's rough edges – which was why holiday makers who went to the beach left feeling completely unwound. He'd bet his money it had a damn sight more to do with the relaxing atmosphere and being away from a city life or whatever than some spiritual mumbo-jumbo about the beach…

He was half paying attention to Hisagi and that Ganju guy were a little far gone and were attempting to strum along to the song on the radio with air guitars. He half expected Yumichika to make some sarcastic remark – particularly as Ganju started swinging his head and jerking his body out as he got into the solo…

Ikkaku glanced over at his boyfriend, only to see those beautiful eyes glancing off towards Renji and Urahara-san. He watched them for a moment, wondering why that of all things had held Yumichika's interest. The two of them didn't seem to be talking sternly, infact this was one of those rare occasions where father and son seemed to have an understanding. Renji was laughing and Urahara-san had such a contented look on his face. It kind of made Ikkaku feeling bad that his own relationship with his parents was so bad… for about two seconds, Zaraki-Sensei was more of a father to him than his own ever could be. It made him feel grateful, you can find your true family in the strangest of places, for example Urahara-san would tease Renji mercilessly, but if anyone really hurt him, the shop keeper would destroy them. He had no doubt that through one way or another, Sensei would do the same for him. Though he had to wonder why the scene seemed to hold Yumichika's attention for so long.

The look on his boyfriend's face almost troubled him; his eyes looked completely lonely and miserable. Ikkaku raised a hand to touch his knee, wanting to draw him back to earth – they could talk about this later… When the model rose to his feet and turned to walk down towards the sea. The bald teenager frowned, leaning forward as he saw his lover stand beside Uryu Ishida, who was stood skimming stones into the calm sea.

Ikkaku had a bad feeling about this… He stood up, keeping a few paces back from the two boys; he wasn't going to risk fighting with Yumichika if they were just talking about shit. Sure he may have history on his side – he loved Yumichika with all his heart, but that didn't give him any reason to deny the beautiful man could be incredibly harsh with his words… especially after a few cups of sake.

"So, Ishida-kun, how are things with you?"

"Fine, thank-you."

He half chuckled to himself – that Ishida was so bloody awkward, he wasn't even being rude, and it was just his way. Half the time he just said what was necessary and if he didn't care he wouldn't ask questions. The guy wasn't exactly known for having hundreds of pals, but he never made any effort. Ikkaku had to wonder what Renji saw in him… sure he was good looking, even with those dorky glasses, but he was so prudish. Hell, maybe that was Renji's type now.

"I just thought I should check on you, I mean… Poor Renji-kun, he's not very bright and… Shall we be blunt? He leaves much to be… desired," Yumichika raised his hand and made a limping motion with his pinkie, before bursting into drunkern laughter.

Ikkaku flushed and groaned into his hand – God Yumi! Uryu Ishida had gone completely pink and shifted away from the older man.

"I think you should keep that kind of talk to yourself, Ayasegawa-san."

It was kind of nice to see Renji had a guy who was willing to stand up for him. Still, what the hell had gotten into Yumichika? Was it the booze? Why the sudden onslaught on Renji? He was sure the two hadn't spoken all night?

He rushed over to try and defuse the situation, when the redhead himself appeared at Ishida's side, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders.

"Something wrong, Uryu?" he asked, frowning a little at the flush on Uryu's face.

Before the other boy could answer, Yumichika started laughing again, his expression was utterly cruel, drawing a hand onto his hip as he glanced back at Renji, "I was just warning Ishida-kun of what an awful lay you are."

Thank God they were far away from everyone else – Ikkaku grabbed Yumichika's arm and tried to wheel him back from the other couple, "Yumi, cut it out – you've had too much to drink, you're embarrassing yourself-!" He whispered into his ear, shooting Renji an apologetic glance.

Yumichika pushed him off, shaking his head, "Oh, Ikkaku, do away, I'm trying to have a lovely chat."

He was very much adding up the retaliation of picking Yumichika up, throwing him over his shoulder and carrying him back to the bedroom, telling everyone he'd had too much to drink and wasn't feeling well, before apologizing frantically to Renji and Uryu… However, Renji beat him too it.

"No, Yumichika, you've said enough," he put an arm infront of Ishida and took a step towards them, "I don't know what your problem is and you know what? I don't care! You need to sort your fucking life out!" His tone was dripping with rage, probably retaliation – Ikkaku couldn't really blame him… "All you do is make other people as miserable as you – Ikkaku, I feel sorry for you," he turned away, taking Ishida's hand, "Come on, Uryu… let's… go toast marshmallows."

Renji Abarai leaving with dignity.

As the two of them walked away, Ikkaku glanced back at Yumichika who was for once, utterly silent. His hair masking his face for a moment as he turned on his heel and strode back to the house, his steps a little slurred from the alcohol, he stumbled before slamming the door behind him.

Ikkaku instantly started following him, though he made his steps purposefully slow, he was trying to decide on how to approach him. It wasn't always easy – when he was with Renji or Iba, they'd just be honest about it and say what was bothering him. Yumichika wasn't simple like that; he wouldn't just come out with it, more than once he'd tried to distract Ikkaku with sex when he didn't want to talk about something. He rubbed his head in irritation, when had Yumi's behaviour changed? He'd been a little quiet all night, but it was nothing like this. Was it… when he saw Renji and Urahara-san having a moment?

The bald man groaned, thinking he wasn't really cut out for this, as he sat down next to Yumichika on the back porch, furthest from the beach and out of sight. His boyfriend has his knees drawn to his chest with his head hung, hugging himself.

"Don't cry," he said weakly, awkwardly placing a hand on his back.

Instantly the hand was slapped off, and Yumichika was glaring at him, head raised, "I'm not crying – do you think that imbecile could make me cry?" He seemed to soften instantly, before bowing his head again, covering it with his hand as he smoothed back his short hair.

Ikkaku swallowed, then glanced down at his feet before he tried again, "What's the matter, Yumi?"

There was another moment of silence before Yumichika seemed to find his voice, he was chocked up as he spoke, "I-I want my Dad. H-He left and I never…had," he covered his face, "I-It's not fair…"


End file.
